















Book -S 0 

/ / 

Gopightl^? 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 


/ 









Mf 


* 










SOME WOMEN AND A MAN 


SOME WOMEN AND A MAN 


A COMEDY OF CONTRASTS 


BY ^ ^ 

WILLIAM J. LOCKE 


AUTHOR OF 


“At the Gate of Samaria,” “ The Demagogue and Lady Phayrk,” Etc. 


Copyright^ i8qb^ by F. Tennyson Neely 



! SEP 5 IB% 


<r> 
\ - 




WASl _ 




F. TENNYSON NEELY, PUBLISHER 

NEW YORK 

1896 






VKVp-'- 






t-» y 


'^.4^ ■ :■ 

,. V \^. . 


r •♦ « . 




y ■'.r' 


■ l ^ 

y •. fr . 




V V 

• I'- ■ 


, T'. . A': >-. •■'■'• •» ' ■ •• -.*' 


V>-. , , - >.^ 4 ^:;:; '-4$:% i .'^■•;*;W'\‘ •;. •> ’ ' ^ : 

. .. ...,►■• A ’-(j, 'VB' y 

/< '• ;>>•?■ • V- ■•.^■'^;Si‘‘*:; .N _vJ' ►‘^V ' i'. ‘ ■'^=- ^'- 

/ '.vV • " ' ' ■•’ w- 


' : ^,- 


. ■•■'■:. : V-. 

. V - <*. ^; , 


: ■ 

. r4 . 

>• *;*’ : ■ T* 




‘ Xl' 


: 


•• ■>: 


:( 


..f 


y-.- 


'. -T. — ' . ?i.^ ' 

■; ■ , 


■'L ,v'’''-i 

-‘-i '• ' 

' '^a-' V-'V ' 4 ^ 

■>■■ . - - 


I . 


• ; ‘oo 


■ 4 ’;- 




\ . 


w* 



I ■ . ■ • » > 

. vt « ' ^ 


f 


** 


^r 

, » 


i ^ A- . VT 


. ^ 


»L. - 




.. v* 
V<* > 




’ t 


V' 

A ' 




> • 

'•• ) 


^ - 4 


“ A'i. ^ I* . ■ ■^,' 


l'.>. 


.1; 

Vi 

ii 




»>.■' < k. » 


• • ’ 
,.' :•> ' 


■ ■ "j'f . A, ' 

M -1^ 1 . . ' 


• \ 


» ' » r • 

jr 

^ *k 

1 , V • '• 


^ . W 


I 




r , 


SSI^B 

V ■ ■ 5 i- ' i j 


•i 

t * -• 


"'^*1 . - '■> '^ 
V V :?v.!^^..,. : y-y^ff r 4 ,. X: 





I 


\ 


f Jr . . •• 

A' : 



CONTENTS- 


CHAPTER I. 

The Lone Women 


Katherine . 


CHAPTER II. 


■ • • • • 


CHAPTER III. 

Lost in the Snow 


CHAPTER lY. 

‘‘Where the Brook and River Meet” • 

CHAPTER Y. 

The Puzzle of Ratne Chetwynd • • 

CHAPTER VI. 

Summer Changes ....*• 

CHAPTER YII. 

Katherine’s Hour . . • • • 


PI OB 
1 

. 19 

. 41 
. 66 
73 
. 90 
. 109 


Contents. 


VI 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A Poor Little Tragedy . 

CHAPTER IX. 

Various Elembmts have their Sat . 

CHAPTER X. 

A Tough op Xatueb . . . . 

CHAPTER XI. 

“The Woman who Deliberates” , 

CHAPTER XII. 

Electricity in the Air 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Soiling op a Page . . . 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Weaker Side . . . , 


CHAPTER XV. 

The Signing op a Death Warrant . 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Felicia Victrix . . . . • 


. 123 

. 145 

. IGO 
. 179 

. 196 
. 214 
. 230 
. 244 


264 


i 


CHAPTER I. 

THE LONE WOMEN. 

Felicia Graves was puzzled. The six weeks 
she had spent at the Pension Boccard had 
confused many of her conceptions and 
brought things before ber judgment for 
which her standards were inadequate. Not 
that a girl who had passed the few years of 
her young womanhood in the bubbling life 
of a garrison town could be as unsophisti- 
cated as village innocence in the play ; but 
her fresh, virginal experience had been 
limited to what was seemly, -orthodox, and 
comfortable. She was shrewd enough in 
the appreciation of superficial vanities, 
rightly esteeming their value as permanent 
elements ; but the baser follies of human 
nature had not been reached by her young 

B 


2 


A Study in Shadows. 


eyes. Her whole philosophy of life had been 
bound up in well-ordered family systems, in 
which the men were honest and well-bred, 
and the women either comfortable matrons 
or fresh-minded, companionable girls like 
herself. She knew vaguely that sorrows and 
bitterness and broken lives existed in the 
world, but hitherto she had never reckoned 
upon coming into contact with them. They 
all lay in the dim sphere where crime and 
immorality held sway, whose internal up- 
heavals affected her as little as dynastic 
commotions in China. The lives and habits 
and opinions therefore of the six lonely 
women who, with one old gentleman, formed 
her sole daily companions in the Pension 
Boccard, wmre a subject of much puzzled 
and half-frightened speculation on the part 
of the young English girl. 

She was forced to speculate, cot only 
because she was brought into intimate touch 
with the unfamiliar, but also because there 
was little else to do. The Pension Boccard 
was neither gay nor stimulating in winter. 
Its life was dependent, first upon the ever- 
changing current of guests, and secondly 


The Lone Women. 3 

upon such public distractions as Geneva 
offers. In the summer it was bright euough. 
The house was full from. top to bottom with 
eager, laughing holiday-makers, bringing 
with them the' vitality and freshness of the 
outside world. There w'ere dances, flirta- 
tions, picnics. New ideas, scraps of gossip 
and song from London, Paris, St. Petersburg 
filled dining-room and salons. The pleasant 
friction of nationalities alone was stimTilating. 
The town, too, "was gay. The streets were 
bright with the cosmopolitan crowd of plea- 
sure-seekers, the cafes alive with customers, 
the shop windows gay with jewellery and 
quaint curios to dazzle the eyes of the reck- 
less tourist. At the Kursaal were weekly 
balls, entertainments, petits chevaux. Bands 
played in the public gardens, and all the 
cafes offered evening concerts gratis to their 
customers. There were pleasant trips to be 
made on the lake to Nyon, Lausanne, Mon- 

t 

treux, Chillon. No one need be dull in 
summer time at Geneva. But in the winter, 
when all the public festivities were over and 
week after week passed without a stranger 
bringing a fresh personality to the dinner- 

B 2 


4 


A Study in Shadows. 


table, the Pension Boccard was an abode of 
drear depression. If it had been chipped 
off from the earth’s surface by the tail of a 
careless comet and sent whirling through 
space on an ecliptic of its own, it could not 
have been less in relation with external 
influences. It was thrown entirely on its 
own resources, which only too often gave 
way, as it were, beneath it. 

There was nothing to do save reading and 
needlework and gossip. It was while pur- 
suing the last avocation that Felicia gathered 
her chief materials for speculation. These 
women, what were they ? Their names were 
Mrs. Stapleton, Miss Bunter, Frau Schultz, 
Fraulein Klinkhardt, and Madame Popea. 
American, English, German, Roumanian 
respectively. Yet in spite of wide diver- 
gencies in creed, nationality, and character, 
they all seemed strangely to belong to one 
class. They were apparently isolated, self- 
centred, without ties or aims or hopes. 
Each had travelled through Europe from 
pension to pension — a weary pilgrimage. 
Their lives wei’e for the most part spent in 
listless idleness, only saved now and then 


The Lone Women, 


5 


from inanition by tbe nerving influences of 
petty bickerings, violent intimacies, sordid 
jealousies. All had moods of kindness 
alternating with moods of cynical disregard 
of susceptibilities. Now and then a wave 
of hysteria would pass through the atmo- 
sphere of depression, when feminine velvet 
would be rudely thrust back and spiteful 
claws exposed to view. Even Mrs. Stapleton 
would occasionally break through her habitual 
restraint and be goaded into mordant expres- 
sion. It ft'as the isolation of these women, 
their vague references to the sheltering home 
of years ago, their cynical exposition and 
criticism of undreamed of facts, that made 
Felicia look upon her surroundings with a 
child’s alarm at the unfamiliar. 

Sometimes she felt home-sick and miser- 
able, wished that her uncle and aunt, with 
whom her home had been for many years 
since the death of her parents, had taken 
her out with them to Bermuda. But they, 
worthy souls, when Colonel Graves was 
ordered abroad with the regiment, had 
thought that a year’s continental life would 
be a treat for the girl. and had sent her, in 


6 


A Study in Shadows. 


consequence, to the care of Mme. Boccard, a 
distant kinswoman, whose prospectus read 
like a synopsis of Eden, They had so set 
their hearts upon her enjoyment, that, now 
they were thousands of miles away, she felt 
it would, be ungracious to complain. But 
she was very unhappy. 

Mon Dieu / This is getting terrible I ” 
said Mme. Popea, one evening. 

Dinner was over, and. some of the ladies 
were passing the usual dreary evening in the 
salon. 

“ It is enough to drive you mad. It 
would be livelier in a convent. One would 
have Matins and Vespers and Compline — a 
heap of little duties. One could go to one’s 
bed tired, and sleep. Here one sleeps all 
day, so that when night comes, one can’t 
shut an eye.” 

“ Why don’t you go to the convent, Mme. 
Popea?” asked Mrs. Stapleton, mildly, look- 
ing up from her needlework. 

“ Ah ! one cannot always choose,” replied 
Mme. Popea, with a sigh, “ Besides,” she 
added, “ one would have to be so good 1 ” 

“ Yes ; there is some truth in that,” 


The Lone Women. 


7 


said Mrs. Stapleton. “ It is better to be a 
serene sinner than a depressed saint ! And 
sometimes we sinners have our hours of 
serenity.” 

“ Not after such a dinner as we had to- 
night,” remarked Frau Schultz, in German, 
with strident irritability. “ The food is 
getting dreadful — and the wine ! It is not 
good for the health. My stomach — ” 

“ You should drink water, as Miss Graves 
and I do,” said Mrs. Stapleton. 

“ Ah, you American and English women 
can drink water. We are not accustomed 
to it. In my home I never drank wine that 
cost less than four marks a bottle, I am 
not used to this. I shall complain to Mme. 
Boccard.” 

“It is bad,” said Mme. Popea, “but it 
isn’t as bad as it might be. At the Pension 
Schmidt we couldn’t drink it without sugar.” 

She was a plump little woman, with a 
predisposition to cheerfulness. Besides, as 
she owed Mme. Boccard some two months’ 
board and lodging, she could afford a little 
magnanimity. But Frau Schultz, who was 
conscious of scrupulous payment up to date, 


8 


A Study in Shadows. 


bad no sucb delicacy of feeling. She pur- 
sued the subject from her own standpoint, 
that of her own physiological peculiarities. 
By the time her tirade was ended, she had 
worked herself up into a fit state to give 
battle to Mme. Boccard, on which errand 
she incontinently proceeded. 

“ What a dreadful woman ! ” said Mrs. 
Stapleton, as the door slammed behind her. 

“ Ah, yes. Those Germans,” said Mme. 
Popea, “they are always so unrefined. 
They think of nothing but eating and drink- 
ing. Herr Schleiermacher came to see me 
this afternoon. He has been to Hanover to 
see his fiancee, whom he can’t marry. He 
was telling me about it. ‘Ach!’ he said, 

‘ the last evening it was so grievous. She 
did hang round my neck for dree hours, so 
that I could not go out to drink beer with 
my vriendts ! ’ Animal ! All men are bad. 
But I think German men — ugh ! ” 

She gave her shoulders an expressive 
shrug, and resumed her reading of an old 
copy of Le Journal Amusant, which she had 
brought down from her room. 

“ Where are the others ? ” asked Felicia, 


The Lone Women. 


9 


dropping her book wearily on to her lap. It 
was a much-thumbed French translation of 
“The Chaplet of Pearls,” which Mme.Boccard 
had procured for her from the circulating 
library in the Rue du Rh6ne. Felicia found 
it languid reading. 

“ Miss Bunter is tending her canary, which 
is moulting, or else she is writing to her 
fiance in Burmah,” replied Mrs, Stapleton. 

“ Is she engaged ? ” 

Miss Bunter was some seven and thirty, 
thin and faded, the last person in the world, 
according to Felicia’s ideas, to have a lo"v,^i. 
Both ladies laughed at her astonishment. 

Yes. Hast! t she told you ? ” cried 
Mme. Popea. “ She tells everyone — in 
confidence. They have been engaged for 
fifteen years. And they write each other 
letters — such fat packages — thick as that — 
every mail. Ah, tnon Dieu ! If a man 
treated me in that way — kept me waiting, 
waiting — ” 

She threw up her plump little hands with 
a half-threatening gesture. 

“What would you have done?” asked 
Mrs. Stapleton. 


lo A Study in Shadows. 

*“I shouM have consoled myself — en 
attendant. Oh, yes, I should have gone on 
writing ; but I would not have let myself 
become a poor old maid for any man in the 
world. That is one thing I admire about 
Fraulein Klinkhardt. You were asking 
where . she was to-night. I know, but I 
won’t be indiscreet. She is fiancee too. 
She is not getting less young — mais elle 
s’ amuse, elle — en attendant.” 

Felicia did not grasp the full significance 
of Mme. Popea’s insinuations, but she 
CcUght enough to set her cheeks burning, 
and she cast an appealing glance at Mrs. 
Stapleton. 

“ Won’t you play us something ? ” said 
the latter, kindly, in response to the appeal. 

“ Ah, do ! ” said Mme. Popea, serenely. 
“ You play so charmingly.” 

Felicia went to the piano, and ran her 
fingers over the keys. She did not feel in 
a mood for playing ; music with her was 
an accomplishment, not an art to which 
she could instinctively bring bruised and 
quivering fibres to be soothed. She played 
mechanically, thinking of other things. 







5;. 






if 



ct 






: S?''; ■ 
^ ' 





ns 




. ' * V * ■ ' - 


< • * : t^' 

‘ ‘ JT- •-■ •- ‘ 

•^, • . r,m. ’ r . • 


- ■ ^ 



-V 










A ■j ,t-« » 


'4’'. 


iffT . '. 31 * 


rv 


:h 


•s ; ‘ 


"»■ -"4^ 







;■■*.%'■>«> .f 

'• ‘S*4 < • • 






, 't- . 


-*'V.' 

1 )c 


?----^ 


■ ■ -i-m-' 


• • ' ^ ♦ 

^ .* 1t!-' i '*' ■ ' -u* ■ « ~*; ^ . i ■^'*'-^^ ^ . -M’* ■ ' ,, 

: -Bi-'V. ■■ ■ *p; 

. *->«jSS2h fir. ' • *i ' _t . ... . Litoiw * 




'■ ,. •- ---s .% // *-' 

* • \ • i* v^ )i* » 




iV. . ' 

'• ■'^r 

> ' 7. -' 
• * '-i” 

r- 



" %'-~i ' ! . * ■ r. - 


- -wc' ’- 

.-Ifef: ..:-.«tti.., V^r. , , 



• .., ■''.^:- 

'■ •■ • *•'■• v»: 

.■ - -i > 1 - <-■ , ■ 

■-”■■■■ '»ir» 


y *'* 

V ‘Cl::;'- . -t?v iv.v- •- 




■ V .•'■•^4 - 



The Lone Women. 


] I 

Once she struck a false note, and her ear 
caught a little indrawn hiss from Madame 
Popea, which brought her wandering atten- 
tion sharply back. But her heart was not 
in it. She was thinking of poor little Miss 
Bunter, and the weary years of waiting, 
and how sad she must have been as, year 
by year, she had seen the youth dying out 
of her eyes and the bloom fading from her 
cheek. Fraulein Klinkhardt, too, who was 
amusing herself — en attendant ; she felt as 
if something impure had touched her. 

At the next false note. Mine. Popea 
rose softly, and went to Mrs. Stapleton. 

“ I am going to bed,” she whispered. 
“ These B nglish girls are charming ; but 
they should have dumb pianos made for 
them, that would speak only to their own 
souls.” 

When Felicia heard the click of the 
closing door, she started round on the 
music-stool. 

“ I hope I haven’t driven Mme. Popea 
away with my strumming,” she said, 
guiltily. 

“ Oh, no, dear,” replied Mrs. Stapleton, 


12 


A Study in Shadows. 


AYith cheerful assurance. “ She is a lazy 
little body that always goes to bed early.” 

Felicia rose, took up Le Journal Aviusant, 
which Mine. Popea had left behind, and 
sitting down, began to look through it. A 
few seconds later, however, she crumpled it 
fiercely, and threw it on the ground with a 
cry of disgust. 

“ How can ladies read such things ? ” she 
exclaimed. 

She had never seen such a picture before, 
never conceived that the like could even 
have been visualized by the imagination. 
Its cynical immodesty, its obscene sugges- 
tion, gave her a sickening sensation of 
loathing. 

Mrs. Stapleton picked up the offending 
journal, and skimmed over its pages with 
calm eyes and a contemptuous curl of the 

lip- 

“ Oh, how can you ? ” cried Felicia, 
writhing. 

The other smiled, and, opening the door 
of the great porcelain stove, thrust the paper 
in amongst the glowing coals, and closed 
the door again. Then she came quickly up 


The Lone Women. 


to the couch where Felicia was, and sitting 
down by her side, took her hand. 

“ My poor child,” said, “ I hope you 
are not too unhappy here.” 

The elder woman’s voice was so soft, her 
manner was so gentle and feminine, that 
the girl’s heart, that had been longing for 
six weeks, with a greater hunger day after 
day, for womanly sympathy, leapt towards 
her, and her eyes filled with tears. 

It is so strange here,” she said, 
piteously, “ and I feel so lost, without my 
friends and occupations, and — and — 

“ Well ? Tell me. Perhaps I may be 
able to help you.” 

The girl turned away her head. 

“ Other things. Sometimes I feel fright- 
ened. To-night — that newspaper — what 

Mine. Popea was saying — ^it seemed to 
"corch me.” 

Mrs. Stapleton registered a mental reso- 
lution to talk pointedly to Mme. Popea 
on the morrow. If English girls should 
have dumb pianos, it was only fair that 
Koumanian widows should have invisible 
indecent pictures. 


14 


A Study in Shadows, 


She smoothed the back of Felicia’s hot 
hands. Her own were cool and soft, and 
their touch was very grateful to Felicia. 

“ My poor child,” she said, “ my poor 
child.” 

She herself had suffered. She knew from 
sad tasting the bitterness of many fruits 
that grow in the garden of life. Like many 
women, she judged the flavour of another’s 
future experiences by the aftertaste of her 
own past. There were many, many Dead 
Sea apples that a woman had to eat before 
the grave closed over her. The sight of the 
young soul shrinking at the foretaste filled 
her with a sense of infinite pathos. 

“ I wonder if you would let me call you 
by your name sometimes when we are 
alone,” she said, gently. 

The girl flashed a grateful glance. 

“ Would you really ? It is Felicia.” 

“ And mine is Katherine. I wonder how 
it would sound ? ” 

“ Katherine ? ” echoed Felicia, with a 
puzzled smile. “What do you mean ?” 

“I have not heard it for very many years. 
To everybody I have known I have been 


The Lone Women. 


15 


Mrs. Stapleton. I should like to be called 
by my own name once again. Would you 
do so ? ” 

“ Oh ! yes — gladly. But how sad ! How 
very, very lonely you must be. I think I 
should pine away with loneliness. There 
must be quite a hundred people who call me 
Felicia.” 

“ Then you must give us poor forlorn 
creatures some of your happiness,” said 
Katherine, with a smile. “ You must make 
allowances for us. Do not judge us too 
harshlv.” 

Oh ! . you must not compare yourself 
with the others,” said Felicia; “you are 
quite different from — Mme. Popea, for 
instance.” 

“ Ah, no, not very much,” said Katherine, 
with a touch of bitterness. “ We only differ 
a little through the circumstances of our 
upbringing, nationality, and so on. We are 
all the same at heart, weary of ourselves, of 
life, of each other. Most women have their 
homes, their children, their pleasant circle of 
friends. None of us has. We are failures. 
Either we have sought to get too much from 


1 6 A Study in Shadows. 

life and heaven has punished ns for pre- 
sumption, or circumstance has been against 
us — we have been too poor to conquer it. 
Ah, no, my dear child, don’t think that 
we are merely a set of selfish, coarse, ill- 
tempered women. Each of us knows in her 
own heart that she is a failure, and she 
knows that all the others know it.” 

A flush of colour had come into her 
delicate cheek as she said this, and her lips 
closed rather tightly, showing fine, almost 
imperceptible vertical lines. Yet her eyes 
looked kindly at Felicia and smoothed any 
rough impression her words may have made. 

The other’s eyes met hers rather won- 
deringly. The tragedy that underlay this 
commonplace pension life was a new con- 
ception. 

“ I’ll try to think more kindly of them,” 
she said. 

“ And what about poor me ? ” 

“ Ah, you 1 I have never thought un- 
kindly about you. In fact, I have wanted 
to know you, but you have always been so 
distant and reserved, until this evening ; 
you and Mr. Chetwynd. He is so clever. 


The Lone Women. 


17 

and so old — and I am only a girl — that I 
am afraid of boring him.” 

Katherine laughed at her naive confession. 
“ Why, Mr. Chetwynd is the kindest and 
most courteous old man in the world ! I’ll 
tell you what we’ll do. I will get your seat 
moved up to our end of the table — away 
from Mme. Boccard, who has had you long 
enough — and then you can sit next to him. 
Would you like that ? ” 

Felicia assented gladly. Mme. Boccard 
was a rather oppressive neighbour. Her 
conversation was as chaff before the wind, 
both in substance and utterance ; and the 
few straws that Felicia, with her schoolgirl’s 
knowledge of French, was able to seize, did 
not afford her much satisfaction. 

“How can I thank you for being so kind 
to me ? ” she said, a little later, before they 
parted for the night. 

“ By calling me Katherine sometimes,” 
said the other. “ I am not so very, very 
old, you know ; and, my dear child, it would 
comfort me.” 

Felicia went to sleep that night happier 
than she had done since her arrival in 


0 


1 8 A Study in Shadows* 

Geneva. But site pondered many things 
before her eyes closed. She was ready to 
pity Mme. Popea for being a failure, but 
Mrs. Stapleton had failed to explain to her 
the necessary connection between an unhappy 
life and Le Journal Amusant. If the latter 
was a necessary solace, it brought fresh 
terrors to the anticipation of sorrow. 


CHAPTER II. 


KATHEKINE. 

“ Don’t ■waste your pity upon me,” wrote 
old Mr. Cbetwynd to his son Raine, an 
Oxford don. “ This is not the Buxine, and 
even if it were, there would be compensation. 
I have fallen in love in my old age. She is 
a little brown-haired, brown-eyed, fresh- 
coloured English girl, who has come lately 
to sit by me at table. Owing to her, a 
change has come o’er the spirit of my meals. 
I say and do all kinds of foolish things. I 
caught myself yesterday brushing my coat 
before coming down to dinner. I shall be 
wearing a flower in my buttonhole before 
long. I am already supplied with bouquets. 

“ My young lady’s ignorance is fascinat- 
ing ; it forms a bond between us. The 
Oxford young ladies, who will tell you of 
their charming talk with the dear professor, 

0 2 


20 


A Study in Shadows. 


little know wkat wicked satirical tkouglitg 
they have left behind in the dear professor’s 
breast. But this one actually does not want 
to teach me anything. Think of it ! She is 
Homeric. I told her she reminded me of 
Nausicaa. Instead of taking the allusion 
as a text to preach the newest theories of 
female education, she asked me sweetly who 
ISTausicaa was. It is wonderful ! In brief, 
my dear Raine, if you value the place you 
'hold in your poor old daddy’s heart, you 
must pay me your promised visit with the 
utmost celerity.” 

He was a striking figure in the pension, 
this old scholar, whose heart Felicia had 
won. All the ladies knew that he was a 
professor, wonderfully learned, and that 
he was writing a learned book, in which 
pursuit he spent half his days among the 
musty manuscripts in the Geneva University 
Library. In consequence, they looked upon 
him with a. certain awe. They saw very 
little of him, except at' meals, and then on^y 
those who were within easy conversational 
distance profited much by his society. Now 
and then, on rare occasions, he came into 


Katherine. 


21 


the salon after dinner, where he would take 
a hand at piquet witli Mme. Popea, whose 
conspicuously best behaviour on these 
occasions was a subject of satirical pleasure 
to the others. Bub as a general rule he 
retired to his own room and his private 
avocations. 

As a matter of fact, he was an Oxford 
scholar of considerable repute, honoured 
and welcomed in every Common Room. In 
his middle age he had filled a professorial 
chair in a Scotch University, which after 
some years he had' resigned for reasons of 
climate and failing health. At present he was 
engaged on critical work dealing with the Swiss 
Reformers, and involving accurate documen- 
tary research. He had already spent the 
latter part of the summer at Zurich, examin- 
ing the Zwinglius MSS., and novf he was 
busy wdth the Oalvinistic treasures of Geneva. 
How long his task would last would depend 
upon his rate of progress. But as he had 
let his small house in Oxford for a year, and 
as the quiet of the Pension Boccard suited 
him, he had decided upon staying at Geneva 
for a considerable time. 


22 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


A strange anomaly, witb his learning and 
industry, in the midst of tbe heterogeneous 
feminine idleness of the Pension. In a 
vague way all the women felt it. His ap- 
pearance, too, was strikingly suggestive of a 
personality inaccessible to the trivialities 
round which their own souls centred. Once 
a strong, thick-set man, he retained at 
seventy-two, great breadth of bent shoulders. 
His hair, scanty at the top and long, 
was still black, as were his heavy eye- 
brows, beneath which gleamed lustrous 
black eyes. The sombre depth of the latter 
and the deep furrowings on his dark, square 
face gave it, in moments of repose, a stern 
expression ; but when a smile or the play of 
fancy or interest lit it up, it was like the 
sunshine breaking upon a granite scaur. 
The very magic of the change had in 
it something eerie, incomprehensible. And 
a rare tenderness could sometimes well 
from the heart into the eyes, making the 
old face beautiful ; but that was not dis- 
played for the benefit of the ladies of the 
Pension. 

Tlie fresh instincts of the young girl. 


Katherine^ 


23 


however, divined the underlying tenderness 
and brought it to the surface. It was a 
natural intimacy, which cheered both lives. 
The old scholar’s genial humour, delicate, 
playful fancy, evoked in Felicia spontaneity 
of merry thought and speech. The meals, 
which once had been such ordeals, when 
eaten under the whirlwind of Mme. 
Boccard’s half-intelligible platitudes, became 
invested with a rare charm. Instead of 
sitting shy and silent, she laughed and 
jested with the inconsequence of twenty. 
The change was so marked, that one day, 
when a mock quarrel arose between the 
old man and herself, over the exact halving 
of a pear, Mme. Popea elevated surprised 
eyebrows, and nudged Frau Schultz her 
neighbour. 

Voild hien les femmes ! a man — a mummy 
will suffice — but let it be masculine ! ” 

And the men, they are all the same,^* 
said Frau Schultz, in her thick South German. 
‘‘ Give them a pretty face, and no matter 
how old, they are on fire.*^ 

Frau Schultz applied herself again seriously 
to her meal, whilst Madame Popea repeated 


24 


A Study in Shadows, 


her own observation to Madame Boccard, who 
laughed, and prophesied a wedding in the 
pension. But as all this was whispered, it d.id 
not reach the ears of the parties concerned, 
at the other end of the table. 

Mrs. Stapleton listened amusedly to the 
light talk between Mr. Chetwynd and Felicia, 
though with a certain surprise and wistful- 
ness. Charming and courteous as the old 
man was when the mood for conversation 
was on him, she had never been able to open 
in him that light playful vein. What Frau 
Schultz had expressed coarsely, Katherine, 
with a finer nature, felt delicately. It was 
Felicia’s fresh maidenhood that had in- 
stinctively gladdened the old man — a posses- 
sion she herself had lost for ever, with which 
she could gladden no man’s heart. She 
looked across the table and smiled at her 
own thought. What did it matter, after all ? 
She had had the roses and lilies in her time, 
and they had not brought her any great 
happiness. Her life had been lived. Still, 
a woman of thirty mourns her lost youth- 
all the more if it has been a failure — just as 
an older woman mourns the death of a 


Katherine. 


25 


scrapcgrace son. And thougli Katherine 
smiled at herself, she wished for some of it 
back, even to charm such an old, old man as 
Mr. Ohetwynd. There will ever be much 
that is feminine in woman. 

“You have made a conquest,” she said 
soon afterwards to Felicia. 

“ Haven’t I ?” laughed the girl. ‘“He is 
so sweet. Do you know, I think sweet 
people, when they grow very, very old, 
become quite young again.” 

“ Or, in this case, more accurately, isn’t it 
that extremes touch?” 

“Do you think I am so very young?” 
asked Felicia, seizing the objective. “ I am 
twenty.” 

“ Happy girl,” said Katherine, smiling. 
“ But what I meant was, that if vou were 
thirty and he was fifty, you probably would 
have fewer points of contact.” 

“ Or, if I were ten and he were eighty, we 
would play together like kittens,” said 
Felicia, with girlish irreverence. “ Well, it 
doesn’t matter. He is the dearest old man 
in the world, and it was very nice of you to 
arrange for me to sit next to him.” 


26 A Study in Shadows. 

“ It seems to have brightened you, 
Felicia.” 

“ Oh, yes, wonderfully. I was getting so 
bored and dull and miserable. It is not 
very gay now, but I have something to look 
forward to every day. And your letting me 
talk to you has made a great difference.” 

“ I am afraid I am not very entertaining,” 
said Katherine. 

“ Sometimes you are so sad,” said Felicia, 
sympathetically. “ I wish I could help 
you.” 

“ I am afraid you would have to upheave 
the universe, my dear.” 

Felicia looked at her with such wonderful 
gravity in her brown eyes that Katherine 
broke into a laugh. 

“ Well, you can do it gradually. Begin 
with my work-basket, will you? and find me 
a spool of No. 100 thread.” 

Without overstepping the bounds of kindly 
friendship,* they saw much of each other. 
An imperceptible shadow of reserve in 
Katherine’s manner, a certain variability of 
mood, a vein of hardness in her nature ever 
liable to be exposed by a chance thought, 


Katherinen 


27 


checked in the young girl the impulses of a 
more generous affection. Katherine was 
conscious of this ; conscious, too, of no 
efforts to win more from the girl. Now and 
then she sounded a note of explanation. 

Once they were talking of the pension’s 
dreariness — an endless topic. It happened 
that Felicia was disposed to take a cheerful 
view. 

Every cloud has a silver lining/’ she 
said. 

‘‘ By way of heightening its blackness, my 
dear,” said Katherine. Besides, the lining 
is turned to heaven and the blackness to 
earth, so it does not help us much.” 

Oh, why are you so bitter ? ” 

Bitter ? ” echoed Katherine, musingly. 

Oh, no ! I am not, really. But perhaps it 
were better that you should think so.” 

But for all her refusal to admit Felicia 
any deeper into her heart, Katherine 
welcomed her companionship frankly. She 
had looked forward almost shudderingly to 
the dreary isolation of the winter. Whom 
could she choose as a companion, to exchange 
a thought with beyond those of ordinary 


28 A Study in Shadows. 

civility? By a process of elimination khe 
liad arrived at little Miss Bunter, with her 
canaries, her Family Herald and Modern 
Society, her mild spinsterish chit-chat. It 
was a depressing prospect ; but Felicia had 
saved her. Her society relieved the mono- 
tony of those terrible dreary, idle days, took 
her out of herself, stilled for a few odd hours 
the yearnings for a bright full life — ^jmarn- 
ings all the more inwardly gnawing by reason 
of the ever exerted strain to check their 
outward expression. 

She was standing before her glass one 
morning brushing her hair. She had shaken 
it back loose ; it was fair, long, and thick, 
and she had taken up the brush languidly. 
She was not feeling well. Frau Schultz had 
unsuccessfully tried to provoke a quarrel 
the night before ; a little graceful experi- 
ment in philanthropy that had engaged her 
attention of late had ignominiously failed ; 
the rain was pouring in torrents outside ; 
the day contained no hope ; a crushing sense 
of the futility of things came over her like 
a pall. She had roused herself, given her 
hair a determined shake, and commenced to 


Katherine. 


29 


brush vigorously, looking at herself side- 
ways in the glass. But a weak pity for the 
weary, delicate face she saw there filled her 
eyes with tears. Her arm seemed heavy 
and tired. She dropped the brush and 
sank down on a chair, and spreading her 
arms on the toilet-table, buried her face in 
them. 

“ Oh I can’t, I can’t ! ” she cried, with a 
kind of moan. “What is the good? Why 
should I get up day after day and go through 
this weariness ? Oh, my God ! What a life ! 
Some day it will drive me mad I I wish I 
were dead.” 

The sobs came and shook her shoulders, 
hidden by the spreading mass of hair. She 
could not help the pity for herself. 

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. 
She sprang to her feet, glanced hurriedly 
at the glass, and touched her face quickly 
with the powder-puff. In a moment she had 
recovered. 

Felicia entered in response to her acknow- 
ledgment of the knock. She had been out 
in the rain ; her cheeks were glowing above 
the turned-up collar of her jacket. 


30 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ Oh, you are only just dressing. 1 
have been up and about for ages. See, I have 
brought you some flowers. Where shall I 
put them ? ” 

Katherine felt gladdened by the little act 
of kindness. She thanked Felicia, and went 
about the room collecting a few vases. 

“ Arrange them for me, dear, whilst I 
finish my hair.” 

She returned to the looking-glass, and 
Felicia remained by the table busy with the 
flowers. 

“ I went as far as the library with Mr. 
Chetwynd,” said Felicia. “ I told him he 
ought not to go out to-day, but he would go. 
When ‘ Raine,’ as he calls him, comes, I shall 
have to talk to him seriously about his 
father.” 

“ The son has definitely settled to come, 
then ? ” asked Katherine, with a hair-pin 
between her lips. 

“ Oh, yes. Mr. Chetwynd can talk of 
nothing else. He will be here quite soon.” 

“ It will be a good thing,” said Katherine. 

“ Yes ; it will do the dear old man good.” 

Ordinarily Katherine would have smiled 


Katherine. 


31 

at the ingenuousness of the reply ; but this 
morning her nerves were unstrung. 

“ I wasn’t thinking of him. I was think- 
ing of ourselves — us women.” 

“ I wonder what he’ll be like,” said 
Felicia. 

“What does it matter? He will be a 
man.” 

“ Oh, it does matter. If he is not nice — ” 

“ My dear child,” said Katherine, wheel- 
ing round, “ it does not signify whether he 
has the face of an oarre and the manners of 
a bear. He will be a man ; and it is a man 
that we want among us ! ” 

The girl shrank away. To look upon 
mankind as necessary elements in life had 
never before occurred to her. She would 
have been quite as excited if a nice girl had 
been expected at the pension. 

“ But surely — ” she stammered. 

Katherine divined her thought; but she 
was too much under the power of her mood 
to laugh it away. 

“ No ! ” she cried, with a scorn that she 
felt to be unjust — and that very conscious- 
ness made her accent more passionate. 


32 A Study in Shadows. 

“ We don’t want a man to come so that one 
of us can marry him by force ! God forbid ! 
Most of us have had enough of marrying 
and giving in marriage. Heaven help me, 
I am not as bad as that yet, to throw myself 
into the arms of the first man who came, so 
that he could carry me away from this 
Aceldama. But we want a man here to 
make us feel ashamed of the meannesses and 
pettinesses that we women display before each 
other, and to make us hide them, and appear 
before each other as creatures to respect. 
Women are the lesser race ; we cannot exist 
by ourselves ; we become flaccid and back- 
boneless and small — oh, so small and feeble ! 
I get to despise my sex, to think there is 
nothing, nothing in us ; no reserve of 
strength, nothing but a mass of nerves and 
soft, flabby flesh. Oh, my dear child, you 
don’t know it yet — ^let us hope you never 
will know it — this craving for a man, the 
self-contempt of it, to crave for nothing 
more but just to touch the hem of his 
garment to work the miracle of restoring 
you to the dignity of your womanhood. 
Ahl” 


Katherine. 


33 


She waved her arms in a passionate 
gesture and walked about the room with 
clenched hands. Felicia arranged the 
flowers mechanically. These things were 
new to her philosophy. She felt troubled 
by them, but she kept silent. Katherine 
continued her parable, the pent-up disgusts 
and wearinesses of months finding vehement 
expression. 

Yes, a man, a man. It is good that he 
is coming. A being without jangling nerves, 
and with a fresh, broad mind that only sees 
things in bulk and does not dissect the 
infinitely little. He will come here like a 
sea breeze. It is a physical need among us, 
a man’s presence now and then, with his 
heavy frame and deep voice and resonant 
laugh, his strength, his rough ways, his 
heavy tread, his great hands. Ah ! you are 
young; you think I am telling you dreadful 
things ; you may never know it. It is only 
women who live alone that can know what 
it is to yearn to have a man’s strong arm, 
brother or father or husband, to close round 
you as you cry }^our poor weak woman’s 
heart out, and the more humble, self-abasing 


D 


34 


A Study in Shadows. 


longing, just to long for a man’s voice. 
What does it matter what the man is like ? ” 

There was a few moments’ silence. 
Katherine went on with her dressing. The 
words had relieved her heart, yet she felt 
ashamed at having spoken so bitterly before 
the young girl. Maxime dehetur — . She 
thought of the maxim and bit her lip. But 
was she not young too ? W ere they so far 
apart in age that they could not meet on 
common grounds ? She looked in the glass. 
Her charm had not yet gone. Yet she 
wished she had not spoken. 

Felicia finished arranging the flowers, and 
disposed the four little vases about the room. 
Then she went up to Katherine and put her 
arm round her waist. 

“ I am sorry.” 

It was all the girl could say, but it made 
Katherine turn and kiss her cheek. 

“ I expect Mr. Chetwynd is going to be 
very nice if he is anything like his father,” 
she said in her natural tones. “ Forgive me 
for having been disagreeable. I woke up 
like it. Sometimes this pension gets ou 
one’s nerves.” 


Katherine. 


35 


“ It is fri^litfullv dull,” assented Felicia. 
“ But you are the busiest of anybody. You 
are always working or reading or going out 
to nurse poor sick people. I wish I did 
anything half as useful.” 

“ Well, you have made me more cheerful 
than I was, if that is anything,” replied 
Katherine. 

A little later the old man announced to 
her the speedy arrival of his son Raine. 
Katherine listened, made a few polite 
inquiries, learned the functions of a college 
tutor, and the difference between a lecturer 
and a professor. 

“ He is a great big fellow,” said the old 
man. “ He would make about ten of me. 
So don’t expect to see a thin, doubled up, 
elderly young man in spectacles ! ” 

“Is your son married?” asked Fraulein 
Klinkhardt, who sat next to Felicia. 

She was a fair, florid woman of over 
thirty, with strongly hewn features and 
a predisposition for bold effects of attire. 
The old man, who did not like her, said 
that her hats were immoral. A glint of 
gold on one of her front teeth gave a pecu- 

D 2 


36 A Study in Shadows. 

liar effect, in the way of suggestion, to her 
speech. 

“He has never told me,” said the old man, 
with his most courtly smile. 

“ You will see, she will try to marry him 
when he comes,” whispered Frau Schultz to 
Mme. Boccard. 

But Fraulein Klinkhardt laughed at the 
old man’s reply. 

“ That is a pity, for married men — whom 
one knows to be married — are always more 
agreeable.” 

“ And women, too,” said Mine. Popea with 

a little grimace of satisfaction. 

✓ 

“ A bachelor is generally more chivalrous,” 
said Miss Bunter, who always took things 
seriously. “ He acts more in accordance 
with his ideals of women.” 

“ Is Saul also among the prophets ? ” asked 
Katherine with a smile, “ Miss Bunter 
among the cynics ? ” 

“ Oh, dear ! I hope not,” replied Miss 
Bunter in alarm ; “ I did not mean that, but 
a bachelor always seems more romantic. 
What do you think. Miss Graves ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Felicia, laughing ; 


Katherine, 


37 


“ I like all men when they are nice, and it 
doesn’t seem to make any difference whether 
they are married or not. Perhaps it may 
with very young men,” she added reflectively. 
“ But then very young men are different. 
For instance, all the young subs in my 
uncle’s regiment ; it would seem as ridiculous 
to call them bachelors as to call me a 
spinster.” 

“ But you are a spinster. Miss Graves,” 
said Miss Bunter, mildly platitudinous. 

“ Oh, please ! — ” laughed Felicia. “ A 
spinster is — ” she paused in some confusion, 
“An old maid,” she was going to add, but 
she remembered it might be a tender point 
with Miss Bunter. Frau Schultz, however, 
struck in with her harsh voice, — 

“ At what age does a woman begin to be 
a spinster, Miss Graves ? ” 

Frau Schultz’s perverted sense of tact 
was of the quality of genius. Old Mr. 
Chetwynd came to the rescue of the maiden 
ladies. 

“In England, when their first banns of 
marriage are published,” he said. 

Mme. Boccard turned to Mme. Popea to 


38 


A Study in Shadows, 


have the reply translated into ' French. 
Then she explained it volubly to the table. 

The question at issue, the relative merits 
of bachelors and married men, was never 
beaten oiit; for at this juncture, the meal 
being over, old Mr. Ohetwynd rose, turned, 
and hobbled out of the room, taking Felicia 
with him. 

An hour later Katherine was picking her 
way through the mud up the long unsightly 
street in the old part of the town that leads 
to the Hotel de Ville. At the ill-kept gate- 
way of a great decayed house, she stopped, 
and entering, descended the steps at a side 
doorway beneath to a room on the basement, 
whose lunette window was on a level with 
the roadway. A very old woman opened 
the door to her knock, and welcomed her 
with an — 

“ Ah, Madame ! G'est encore vous ! ” and 
led her in with many expressions of delight. 

It was a poor, squalid enough room, very 
dark, ill-kept, littered with cooking utensils, 
cookery, and strange articles of clothing. 
An old man lay in the great wooden bed- 
stead, his face barely visible in the dim light 


Katherine. 


39 


which was further obscured by the dingy 
white curtains running on a rope, fixed over 
the bed. 

‘‘ Jean-Marie/’ cried the old woman, here 
is Madame come to read to you. Will 
Madame give herself the trouble to sit down ? 
My daughter has not come in yet, so the 
room is still unmade/’ 

The old man raised himself on his elbow 
and grinned at Katherine. 

One would say it was an angel when 
Madame comes.” 

The old woman broke out again in welcome. 
It was so good of Madame to come. Jean- 
Marie could do nothing but talk of her. 
Really Jean-Marie was right, and she was 
an angel. 

Katherine took the venerable wooden arm- 
chair that was placed for her near the stove, 
accepted graciously the pillow that the old 
woman took from the bed to make her more 
comfortable, and after a few minutes’ gossip 
opened the book she had brought with her 
and began to read. The old man turned so 
that he could fix his eyes upon her. His old 
wife sat on a straight-backed chair at the 


40 A Study in Shadows. 

foot of the bed and listened in deep attention. 
Katherine read on amid a rapt silence, only 
broken now and then by an “o/i, la I la!’’ 
muttered under the breath, at which she 
could scarcely repress a smile. She was 
happier now. Her best, kindest, tenderest 
self only was shown to this poor, broken- 
down old couple who seemed to worship her. 

There was a humour blended with pathos, 
too, in the situation that .appealed to her. 
For the book in which their whole souls were 
concentrated was a French translation of 
“ Robinson Crusoe.” 


CHAPTER III. 

LOST IN THE SNOW. 

It was the middle of January. Felicia 
stood at the salon window and looked out 
at the snow falling, falling in the deserted 
street. She was oppressed by the dead 
silence of things. There was not even a 
cheerful fire to crackle in the room, which 
was heated by the cold white porcelain stove 
in the corner. All the ladies had retired to 
their rooms, for their usual afternoon siesta, 
and there was not a sound in the house. 
She caught sight of a cab passing down the 
street, but it moved with a deathlike noise- 
lessness over the snow. She half wished 
the driver would crack his whip, although 
she hated the maniacal pastime, dear to 
Genevese cabmen, as much as Schopenhauer 
himself. But he passed on, a benumbed, 
silent spectre, huddled up on his box. 




42 


A Study in Shadows. 

Nothing but stillness, dreariness, and deso- 
lation. The house seemed empty, the street 
empty, the world empty. 

Raine Chetwynd had come and gone. 
For a brief season his heai’ty voice and 
cheery face had gladdened the little pension. 
He had come with his robustness of moral 
fibre, his culture, his broad knowledge of 
the world, and his vigorous manhood, and 
the pulse of the community seemed to beat 
stronger for it. In spite of the old man’s 
warning, they had all expected to see in the 
young “ professor ” a pale image of his 
father, minus the softening charm of age. 
But, instead, they had been presented with 
a type of blond, Anglo-Saxon comeliness — 
tall, deep-chested, fresh-coloured, with an 
open, attractive face, blue-eyed and fair- 
moustached, which, at first sight, seemed to 
belong to a thousand men who rowed and 
cricketed, and lived honest, unparticularized 
lives, but on closer examination showed 
itself to be tha,t of a man who could combine 
thought and action, the scholar and the 
athlete, the man of intellectual breath and 
refinement, and the cheery, practical man 


Lost in the Snow. 


43 


of the world. He was a man, in the specific 
feminine sense. He had brought into the 
pension the influence that Mrs. Stapleton 
had insisted on, with such passionate bitter- 
ness, as being needful in a woman’s life. 
Each of the women had brightened under it, 
exhibiting instinctively the softer side of her 
nature. Mme. Popea had kept hidden from 
view the shapeless wrapper, adorned with 
cheap soiled lace, in which, much to Fran 
Schultz's annoyance, she would now and 
then appear at dejeuner, and had tidied and 
curled her hair betimes, instead of leaving 
it till the late afternoon. In Frau Schultz 
a dignified urbanity had taken the place of 
peevish egotism. Little Miss Bunter had 
perked up like a frozen sparrow warmed 
into life, and had chirruped merrily to her 
canaries. The only friction that his presence 
had caused, had arisen between Mme. 
Boccard and Fraulein Klinkhardt, who had 
broadly hinted a request to be placed next 
to him at table. A pretty quarrel had re- 
sulted from Mme. Boccard’s refusal ; after 
which Fraulein Klinkhardt went to bed for 
a day, and Mme. Boccard called her softly. 


44 


A Study in Shadows, 


under her breath, a German crane, which 
appeared to afford her much relief. 

It had been pleasant and comfortable to 
see a man again in the salon. It had 
broken the sense of isolation they carried 
with them, like lead in their liearts, all 
through the winter. Then, too, he had 
been a man whom one and all could honestly 
respect. He had been open-hearted, frank 
with them all, showing, in a younger, fresher 
way, the charm of courtesy that distin- 
guished his father. But naturally he had 
brouglit himself nearer, to them, had not 
seemed placed in such remote moral and 
intellectual spheres. 

Besides, there had been a few festivities. 

/■ 

Old Mr. Chetwynd liad given, in honour of 
his son’s visit, a Christmas dinner, which 
had won him the heart of Frau Schultz. 
Fraulein Klinkbardt and herself had lavished 
more than their usual futile enthusiasm on a 
Christmas tree, which, owing to Raine, had 
something better than its customary succes 
d^estime. He had taken them to the theatre, 
made up skating parties at Villeneuve, at 
the other side of the lake. Some friends of 


Lost in the Snow, 


45 


his at Lausanne had given a large dance, to 
which he had managed to escort Felicia and 
Katherine, under his father’s protection. A 
couple of undergraduates of his own col- 
lege were there ; they came a few days 
afterwards to Geneva to see him ; and 
that was another merry evening at the 
pension. 

Katherine Stapleton had brightened, too, 
under the gaietj'', and her eyes had lost for 
the time the touch of weariness that sad- 
dened her face in her gentler moods, and 
her laugh had rung true and fresh. There 
were many evident points of contact between 
herself and him, much that was comple- 
mentary in each to tire other. 

One day he had said to her laughingly, — 

“ I have come round to the opinion — 
which I had not at first — that you are 
the most incomprehensibly feminine thing 
I know.” 

“ And I,” she had replied, “ to the after- 
opinion that you are the most comprehensibly 
masculine one.” 

“ Is that why we get oii^ so well to- 
gether ? ” 


46 


A Shtdy in Shadows. 


“ That is what I had meant to convey,” 
she had answered with a light langh. 

The rest of which conversation linorered 

O 

long after his departure in Katherine’s 
memory. 

Now he had gone, and life at the pen- 
sion resumed its dreary, monotonous round. 
Raine Chetwynd w'ould have been surprised 
had he known the change wrought by his 
departure. 

Felicia obviously shared in the general 
depression, and, like Katherine, had memo- 
ries of brigfht hours in which the sun seemed 
to sliine exclusively for her own individual 
benefit. She thought of them wretchedly, 
as she stood by the window watching the 
flakes fall through the grey air. 

A voice behind her caused her to start, 
though the words seemed to come out of 
some far distance. It was old Mr. Chetwynd. 
He had been somewhat ailing the last day or 
two, unable to go out. In a fit of restless- 
ness, he had wandered down to the salon. 

‘‘ Lost in the snow ? ’’ he asked, coming 
to her side. 




Lost in the Snow. 


47 


Yes/^ slie replied, with a half sigh. I 
think so. Quite. I was beginning to doubt 
whether I should find my way safe home 
again, and to grow almost tearful.’’ 

‘‘ You have no business with low spirits, 
my dear,” he replied, with a smile. “You 
should leave that to old people. Their 
hearts get lost in the snow sometimes, and 
when they feel them gradually getting stone- 
cold and frozen, then they may be excused 
for despairing.” 

“ What is to prevent it from being the 
same with young hearts ? ” 

“ The warm blood of their youth.” 

“ That may keep them warm, but it 
doesn’t prevent their being lost,” said Felicia, 
argumentatively. 

“ Well, what does it signify if you do go 
out of your way a little, when j^our legs are 
strong and your blood circulates vigorously?” 
he said cheerfully. 

“ But the young heart can get lost,” said 
Felicia. 

“ I won’t chop logic with you, young lady, 
lam trying to teach you that youth is a 
glorious thing and ought to be its own 


48 


A Study in Shadows. 


happiness. I suppose it is attempting to 
teach the unlearnable. Ah me ! How beau- 
tiful it would be to be three and thirty 

• I >> 

again i 

“ Three and thirty ! Why, that is quite 
old ! ” 

He looked at her with a touch of sadness 
and amusement, his head on one side. 

“ I suppose it is for you. I was forgetting. 
To me it is youth, the full prime of a man’s 
life, when the world is at his feet. Later 
on be begins to feel it is on his shoulders. 
But at thirty-three — I was thinking of Raine. 
That is his age.” 

“ Have you heard from Mr. Chetwynd?” 
asked Felicia, after a longish pause. 

“ Oh, yes. He never keeps me long with- 
out news of him. There are only the two of 
us.” 

“ You seem very fond of one another,” 
said Felicia. 

“ I am proud of my son, my dear, and he 
is foolish enough to be proud of his poor old 
daddy.” 

His voice had grown suddenly very soft, 
and he spoke with the simplicity of old age. 


% 


Lost in the Snow. 49 

His eyes looked out into the distance, their 
brightness veiled with a strange tenderness. 
Felicia was touched, felt strongly drawn to 
him. She lost sense of the scholar of pro- 
found learning in that of the old man leaning 
on his son’s strong arm. And the son’s 
manhood grew' in her eyes as the father’s 
waned. 

‘‘ It is not many men,” he continued 
musingly, that would have given up a 
Christmas vacation and come all this way 
just to see an old, broken-down fellow like 
me.” 

Felicia stared out of the window, but she 
no longer saw the snow. 

‘‘ You must miss him dreadfully.” 

‘‘ I always do. We are much together in 
Oxford. He always gives me at least a few 
minutes of his day.” 

How good of him. It must be beautiful 
for you.” 

‘‘A great happiness — yes, a great happi- 
ness ! ” 

He too was looking out of the window, 
by Felicia’s side, his hands behind his back, 
and likewise saw nothing. A spell of wist- 

E 


50 


A Study in Shadows. 


fulness was over them both — bound them 
unconscioiisly together. 

“ A tender-hearted fellow,” said the old 
man. “ Wonderfully sympathetic.” 

“ He seems to understand everyone so.” 

“ Yes ; that is Raine’s way — ^he gets 
behind externals. I have missed him sadly 
since he left.” 

“ Yes,” said Felicia, softly. 

“ And I have been wishing for him all 
day.” 

“ So have I ! ” said Felicia, under the 
spell. 

Her tone suddenly awakened the old man. 
His eyes flashed into intelligence as a dark- 
ened theatre can leap into light. The girl 
met them, recoiled a step at their brilliance, 
and shrank as if a search-light had laid bare 
her soul. 

She had scarcely known what she had 
been saying. A quivering second. Was 
there time to recover ? She struggled 
desperately. If the tears had not come, she 
would have won. But they rose in a flood, 
and she turned away her head sharply, 
burning with shame. 


Lost in the Snow. 


51 


The old man laid his thin hand on her 
shoulder, and bent round to look into her face. 

“ My dear little girl — my poor child ! ” he 
said gently, patting her shoulder. 

Tor all her shrinking, she felt the tender- 
ness of the touch. To have withdrawn from 
it would have been to repulse. But it added 
to her wretchedness. She could not speak, 
only cry, with the helpless consciousness 
that every second’s silence and every tear 
were issues whence oozed more and more 
of her secret. 

“ Does Raine know ? ” whispered tlie old 
man. 

Then she turned quickly, her brown eyes 
glistening, and found ^eech. 

“ He know ? Know what ? Oh, you 
must never tell him — never, never, never ! 
He would think — and I couldn’t bear him to, 
although he will never see me again. And, 
please, Mr. Ghetwynd, don’t think I have 
told you anything — I haven’t. Of course, I 
only miss him — as every one does.” 

Felicia moved softly towards the door, 
longing for retreat. The old man followed 
at her side. 

£ 2 


52 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ Forgive me, my dear,” he said, with a 
shadow of a smile round his lips. “ I have 
been indiscreet, and leapt to wrong conclu- 
sions. Raine is so bright that we all miss 
him — equally.” 

She glanced at him. The smile found a 
watery reflection in her eyes. In another 
moment she was on the stairs, fleeing to the 
comfort of her own room. 

The old man, left to himself, kicked open 
the door of the stove, drew up a chair, and 
spread his hands out before the glow. 

“ Louis Ohetwynd,” he said to himself, 
“ you are no better than an old fool.” 

The subject was never touched upon 
again, but it seemed always afterwards to be 
in their thoughts when together. At first 
Felicia was sh}'^ — felt the blood rise to her 
cheeks whenever the old man’s bright eyes 
were fixed upon her. But her involuntary 
admission had stirred a great tenderness in 
his heart. Somehow he had always thought 
sadly of the possibility of Raine marrying, 
althoiigh he had urged him to it many 
times. Up to now he had been the first 
—or thought he had, which comes to the 


Lost in the Snow. 


53 


same thing — in Raine’s affections, and he 
could not yield that first place without a 
pang. And it would be to a woman not good 
enough for Raine ; that was certain. If he 
could only choose for him the paragon that 
was his equal, then the surrender would be 
less hard. But Raine would choose for 
himself. It was a way even the most loving 
of sons had — one of the perversities of the 
scheme of things. Now, Felicia’s confession 
and his own feelings towards her supplied 
him with a happy solution to this vexed 
question. Why should not Raine marry 
Felicia ? 

He used to argue it out with himself when 
his intellectual conscience told him he ought 
to be criticizing Calvin’s condemnation of 
Servetus, and pulverizing the learned Beza. 
But he soothed it by reflecting that he was 
pursuing a philosophical method of inquiry. 
He put it syllogistically. Girls do not fall 
in love with a man until he has given them 
good reason. Felicia was in love with 
Raine. Therefore he had given her good 
reason. Again, an honourable man does not 
give a girl such reasons unless he loves her. 


54 


A Study in Shadows, 


Raine was an honourable man. Therefore 
he loved her. Which was extremely satis- 
factory ; and had it not been for the uneasy 
suspicion of a fallacy in his first major, he 
would have written off to Raine there and 
then. . In spite of the fallacy, however, he 
wove his old man’s web of romance, saw 
Felicia married to Raine, and surrendered 
his first place with great gladness. For he 
would be second in the hearts of two, which 
common arithmetic shows to be equal to first 
in the heart of one. And when he had 
definitely settled all this in his mind, he 
revoked the judgment he had previously 
passed upon himself, and felt distinctly 
gratified at his own tact and shrewdness. 
So the liking that he had conceived for Felicia 
developed into a tenderer sentiment, of 
whose existence she gradually became aware, 
though naturally she remained in ignorance 
of its cause. 

She fought fierce battles with herself 
during the next few weeks. If she were 
ever going to see him again, there would 
have been a fearful joy, a strange mingling 
of shame and dizzying hope to keep her 


Lost in the Snow. 


55 


heart excited. But as he had gone for ever 
out of her path, her common sense coming 
to the aid of her ashamedness strove to 
crush her futile fancies. They took a great 
deal of killing, however, especially as she 
found the friendship between Raine’s father 
and herself growing daily stronger. She 
longed for the day of her release to come, 
when she could join her uncle and aunt in 
Bermuda. 


V 


CHAPTER IV. 

** WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER MEET.” 

“ Will you come foi’ a walk this beautiful 
morning, Miss Graves?” asked Erau 
Schultz. 

Felicia had intended to pursue her study 
of scientific dressmaking under Mrs. Staple- 
ton’s tuition, but she acceded graciously 
enough. She had considered it her duty to 
like Frau Schultz ; yet Fi’au Schultz re- 
mained her pet aversion. Although she still 
winced under Mine. Popea’s innuendoes and 
Friiulein Klinkhardt’s pretty free theories of 
life, yet she managed to find something 
• likeable in each. But Frau Schultz’s red, 
weather-beaten face, coarse habits and spite- 
ful tongue, jarred upon her. She smiled 
pleasantly, however, when she came down 
in her fur-trimmed jacket, hat and muff, and 


Whej'e the Brook and River MeetR 57 

met Frau Scliultz on the landing outside the 
salon. 

‘‘ It will do you good. You sit too much 
in the house,” said Frau Schultz magis- 
terially. 

It seemed a lovely day when the sunshine 
was looked at from the windows of a warm 
room, but outside, the hhe was blowing, and 
caught the face like a million razor-edges. 
Felicia put up her muff with a little cry, as 
soon as they emerged into the open air. 

Oh ! this dreadful hhe I ” 

‘^Ach! It is nothiug,” said the other, 
who prided herself on her pachydermaty. 
‘‘ You English girls would sacrifice every- 
thing to your complexions. IF your skin 
cracks you can put on some cold cream. 
But you will have had your exercise.” 

Frau Schultz w^ore an imitation sealskin 
jacket, a new crape hat with broad strings 
tied under her chin, and thick grey woollen 
gloves. Felicia wondered, with not un- 
pardonable vindictiveness, how many cracks 
would do her appreciable damage. 

I don’t care a little bit about my com- 
plexion,” she replied stoutly, resolved, for 


58 


A Study in Shadows. 


tte honour of her countrywomen, to face a 
blizzard, if called upon. “ I have felt worse 
east winds than this in England.” 

“Ah, your England! It is a wonderful 
place,” said Frau Schultz. 

They walked along by tlie end of the 
Jardin Anglais, crossed the bridge and pro- 
ceeded by the Quai du Mont Blanc in the 
direction of the Kursaal. Fi’au Schultz was 
evidently in an atrabiliar mood. Felicia 
began to be rather grateful to the hise^ 
which does not favour conversation. But 
she had not reckoned with Frau Schultz’s 
voice. As soon as it had found the right 
pitch, by means of desultory remarks, it 
triumphed over mere wind, and shrieked 
continuously. 

“ I asked you to come out because I 
wanted to talk to you.” 

“ Perhaps she prefers talking in a hurri- 
cane,” thought Felicia in comic desperation. 
But all she said was, — 

“Oh?” 

“ Yes. You are so young and inex- 
perienced that I have thought it my duty to 
advise you. Mme. Boccard is too busy. I 



S/ic buried her faee in her pil/ow. i7'ying to hide from herself her self-abasement . 





“ Where the Brook and River Meet'.' 59 

am a mother. I brought up my Lottchen 
excellently, and she married last year. I 
am clearly the only one in the pension who 
knows what is suitable for a young girl and 
what isn’t.” 

Felicia looked at her in some astonish- 
ment from under the wind depressed hat 
brim. 

“ I am sure I -am getting on very well.” 

“ Ah, you think so. But you are wrong. 
You cannot touch pitch without stinking.” 

Frau Schultz’s English was apt to fail her 
now and then. 

“ Really, I don’t understand at all, Frau 
Schultz.” 

“ I will make myself quite plain. You 
have become too great a friend with Mrs. 
Stapleton. She is the pitch.” 

Felicia stopped short, her eyes watering 
with wind and indignation. 

“If you say such things of my friends, 
Frau Schultz, I shall go home again.” 

“ I did not hear,” said Frau Schultz 
coming closer. 

Felicia repeated her observation, with an 
irritated little patting of her foot. 


6o 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ Acli I ” cried the other impatiently, “ I 
come to talk with you out of motherly kind- 
ness, for your own good, and you get angry. 
It is not polite either, as I am so much older 
than you. I repeat that Mrs. Stapleton is 
a bad Avornan. If you do not like to walk 
with me, I will walk with myself. But I 
ha\^e done my duty. Are you going to 
stand. Miss Graves, or will you proceed ? ” 

Belicia, in spite of her indignant resent- 
ment of Frau Schultz’s tone, hesitated for a 
moment. She bad seen too many sordid 
squabbles in the pension, in consequence of 
Avhich women would not speak to each other 
for a week, and asked each other vicariously 
to pass the salt, not to feel a wholesome 
horror at the prospect of finding herself 
involved in one. Hitherto she had escaped. 
So she checked her outburst of wrath. 

“ I shall be happy to go on, Frau Schultz, 
if you will drop the subject,” she said. 

“Ac/q so ! ” replied Frau Schultz, enig- 
matically, and they continued their walk. 
But after this, conversation was not cordial. 
At the Kursaal they turned and retraced 
their steps. 


Where the Brook and River Meet^' 6 1 

On the Qiiai du Mont Blanc, where the 
steamers lay at their moorings, Frau Schultz 
stopped and looked at the view. Things 
were vivid in their spring freshness, and 
stood out clear in the wind-swept air. The 
larches in Rousseau’s Island had })ut on their 
green, and so had the clustering limes in the 
Jardin j^imlais, at the other end of the 
bridge. Above the white, tree-hidden shops 
and cafes on the Grand Quai, the old town 
rose sharply defined, around the grim 
cathedral. Stniight in front was the ever 
sea-blue lake, its fringe of trees on the other 
side, just hiding the villas at the foot of the 
hills ; and away in the intense distance 
behind them rose the crest of Mont Blanc, 
shimmering like frosted silver against the 
blue sky. 

At the sight of the latter, Frau Schultz 
drew a long, rapt breath. 

Wunderschon ! ” 

She would not trust herself to speak 
English. She looked at Felicia for respon- 
sive enthusiasm. But Felicia was angry, 
and she could not help feeling a little re- 

t- 

sentment against Mont Blanc, for affording 


62 


A Study in Shadows. 


Frau Schultz pleasurable sensations. But 
she replied politely that it was very pretty. 

“ How few of you English have any 
soul ! ” said Frau Scbultz, as they went on 
again. 

“ I think it is that we are not senti- 
mental,” said Felicia. 

“ I never could quite understand what 
that * sentimental ’ is, that you are all so 
afraid of.” 

“ It is making the same fuss about little 
emotions as one only could about big ones.” 

“ So you think I am sentimental because 
I admire the glorious nature ? ” 

“I did not say so, Frau Schultz.” 

“ Ah, but you thought so. It is the way 
you all have. Nothing is good but what you 
put your seal to.” 

It was decidedly not a pleasant walk. 
Frau Schultz took up the parable of the 
narrow-minded Englishman, and expounded 
it through the Vise. Felicia longed for 
home. To try to turn the conversation 
into a calmer channel, she took advantage 
of a lull, and inquired after Frau Schultz’s 
daughter. The ingenious device succeeded. 


“ Where the Brook and River Meet!' 63 


Lottcliea’s early history lasted until they 
reached their own street. Felicia did not 
know whether to hate Lottchen for being 
snch a paragon, or to [)ity her for being so 
parented. At last she made a rash remark. 

“ I don’t think you gave Fraulein Schultz 
much chance of doing anything wrong.” 

“ I was her mother,” replied Frau Schultz 
with dignity, “ and in Germany young, girls 
obey their mothers and respect the mothers 
of other young girls. If I had spoken to a 
German girl as I did to you this morning, 
she would have been grateful.” 

“ I am very sorry, Frau Schultz, but I 
don’t like to hear my friends spoken ill of.” 

“ I wanted to save you from those friends. 
I say again, Mrs. Stapleton is not the person 
I should let my innocent daughter associate 
with.” 

Felicia fired up. They were within a 
few yards of the entrance to the pension. 

“ You know nothing whatever against 
Mrs. Stapleton. I think it very unkind of 
you.” 

“ So ! Ask her where her husband is.” 

“ She is a widow.” 


64 


A Study in Shadows, 


Frau Schultz looked at her and broke 
into derisive laughter. It jarred through 
the girl as if she had trodden upon an 
electric eel. She left Frau Schultz at the 
foot of the staircase, and ran up by herself, 
tingling with anger and disgust. 

Six months ago she would scarcely have 
divined Frau Schultz’s insinuations. Now 
she did. Her mental range had widened 
considerably since she had lived in the 
pension. A less refined nature might have 
been to some extent coarsened by the 
experience, bnt her knowledge only brought 
her keener repugnance. She was no longer 
puzzled or frightened, but disgusted — some- 
times revolted. It seemed as if she could 
never get free from the taint. Even 
Katherine, whose society, since they had 
grown more intimate, she had sought more 
and more, and to whom she had gone for 
comfort and pure breath, when the air had 
been close with lax talk or unsavoury re- 
crimination — even Katherine was now 
declared by this vulgar, domineering woman 
to be infected by what, in the girl’s eyes, 
was the same leprosy. She did not believe 


Where the Brook and River Meet. ” 65 

it. In other matters Felicia had seen Frau 
Schultz convicted as a liar. But the im- 
putation seemed like a foul hand laid upon 
their friendship. 

It was a relief when she went into Kath- 
erine’s room and saw the welcome on the 
quiet, delicate face that looked up from the 
needleworkT Katherine’s room, too, always 
cheered her. Like Katherine herself, it was 
different from the others. Mine. Popea’s, 
for instance, struck one with a pervading 
sense of soiled dressing-gowns ; Miss Bunter’s 
was all primness, looking as if made to match 
the stiff wires of her canary cages. But this 
sunny little retreat, with all its bedroom sug- 
gestions curtained off, and cosy with piano and 
comfortable easy chairs and rugs, was essenti- 
ally a lady’s room that had assimilated some 
of the charm of its owner. By the time the 
gong went for dejeuner^ Felicia was cheered 
and comforted, and she entered the dining- 
room, her arm around Katherine’s waist, 
darting a rebellious glance at Frau Schultz. 

Tlie days went on uneventfully. The only 
incident was the return of old Mr. Chetwynd 
from a month’s holiday in Italy, when the 


66 


A Study in Shadows, 


whole pension united to do him honour and 
welcome him. On the day of his arrival 
Felicia laid a pair of slippers she had worked 
for him in his room, which delighted the 
old man so much that he came down to the 
salon in the evening to offer them for general 
admiration. But otherwise there was no de- 
parture, no arrival all the spring. Every one 
sighed for the summer and fresh faces. They 
looked forward with the longing that chrysa- 
lises must have for butterflydom. Felicia 
joined in the general anticipation. She had 
not forgotten Baine, though he gradually grew 
to be but a wistful memory. But she felt con- 
vinced, with the fervid conviction of twenty, 
that she could never love any man again. 

The whole course of her thoughts was 
altered on one morning in May. The hour 
for dejeuner had been put earlier than usual, 
for some domestic reason, and the English 
post arrived during the meal. Mr. Chetwynd 
glanced over his envelopes, selected one, and 
courteously asked Katherine and Felicia per- 
mission to open it. His eyes sparkled as he 
read. 

“ I have had pleasant news,” he said 


“ Where the Brook and River Meet." 67 

radiantly, laying down the letter and address- 
ing Mme. Boccard at the other end of the 
table. “ My son is coming here for the first 
part of the Long Vacation.” 

There was a general chorus of satisfac- 
tion. Tongues were set on the wag. Mme. 
Popea —and Frau Schultz conversed with 
simultaneous unmodulation. Mme Boccard 
explained volubly to Mr. Clietwynd the 
pleasure he would derive from his son’s visit. 

But all was a distant buzz in Felicia’s ears. 
The announcement was like an electric shock, 
vivifying the fading love into instant life. 
Her heart gave a great leap, and things 
swam before her eyes, causing her to close 
them for a second. She opened them to a 
revelation — Katherine’s face, which was as 
white as paper, and Katherine’s eyes fixed 
upon her with an almost terrified intelli- 
gence. The exchanged glance told each the 
other’s secret. But all was so sudden that 
only they two knew. 

Katherine recovered her composure in- 
stantly, and the reaction brought the blood 
back into her cheeks. She said with a smile 
to the old man, — 

F 2 


68 A Study in Shadows. 

“ It will be charming to see Mr. Chetwynd 
again.” 

Felicia envied her. She could not have 
trusted her voice whatever had been at 
stake. 

When they rose from the table, the old 
man motioned to Felicia to come with him on 
to the balcony, which ran continuously past 
the clining-i’oom and salon windows. 

“ Is it not good news ? ” 

She hung her head, and faltered out, — 

“ Yes.” 

“ Will you still be glad to see Raine 

• ^ 

again r 

“ You know — how can I tell you ? ” 

“ My dear child,” he said, laying his hand 
on hers, as it rested on the iron balustrade, 
“ do you know what I hope Raine is coming 
for ? ” 

Felicia shook her head. 

“ Oh, I dare not think it — we must not 
speak of it. I don’t think I shall be able to 
meet him.” 

“ Can I help you ? ” asked the old man, 
tenderly. “ You can tell an old man things 
without shame that you cannot tell a young 


Where the Brook and River MeetT 69 

one. I have grown very fond of you, m3’’ 
child. To part with 3^ou would be a great 
wrench. And that this other should be has 
become one of the dearest wishes of my 
life.” 

‘^Ah! you are good — dear, and good, and 
kind,” replied the girl ; but — ” 

‘MVell, perhaps you can explain a little 
enigma iu Raine’s letter ! ” 

She looked up at him quickly. For the 
first time, her cheek flushed with a ray of 
hope. 

Can 3^011 explain this ? ” he asked, taking 
the letter from his pocket, and placing it so 
that they both could read as they leant over 
the balcony. 

He pointed to a sentence. 

I am coming on my own account as well 
as yours. This, so that you should not be 
conceited, and think 3^ou are the only magnet 
in Geneva that draws 

Your loving 

Raine.” 

There ! ” he said, hastily withdrawing it. 
** Perhaps I ou^ht not to have shown it to 
you. But Raine never talks idly ; and I 


70 


A Study in Shadows. 


have ventured to believe that Miss Felicia 
Graves is the magnet in question. Good- 
bye, my dear. I think I have committed 
enough indiscretion for one day.” 

She gave his hand a little caressing 
squeeze, and, when he had gone, remained a 
long time on the balcony, deep in troubled 
thoughts. Who was the magnet — she or 
Katherine ? 

She strove not to think of it, to busy her- 
self with whatever interests she could find to 
hand. With this end in view, she took out 
for a long walk little Miss Bunter, who had 
been in low spirits for some days. She 
strove to cheer her. But Miss Bunter folded 
her drapery of depression all the more closely 
around her, and poured into Felicia’s ears 
the history of her engagement with the man 
in Burmah. 

“ Our marriage has just been put off for 
another year,” she said. “ I thought I had 
come to the end of my waiting. But he 
can’t afford it yet ; and you have no idea 
how expensive living is there.” 

“ Oh ! I shouldn’t have thought so,” said 
Felicia. 


“ Where the Brook and River Meeti' 71 

“ My dear ! ” said Miss Bunter, straighten- 
ing her thin shoulders reproachfully, “ Mr. 
Dotterel says so, and he has been living 
there fifteen years.” 

“ It is strange that you have remained so 
Eond of one another all this long time.” 

“ Do you think so ? Oh, no ! ” replied 
Miss Bunter, with a convinced shake of her 
head. “ When one loves really, it lasts for 
ever. But,” she added, sighing, “it has 
been a long engagement.” 

So Felicia parted with Miss Bunter rather 
more depressed than before. She had 
thought to get outside the range of such 
things, but she had been brought only the 
closer within it. 

She could not sleep that night. Many 
things troubled her, causing her cheek to 
burn in the darkness — the sudden rekindling 
within her of feelings against which her 
young maiden pride had ever revolted ; the 
shame at having revealed them for the 
second time ; the hope suggested by Raine’s 
letter, to which it seemed a joy and a 
humiliation to cling ; the discovery of 
Katherine’s love. 


72 


A Study in Shadows. 


She buried her face in her pillow, trying 
to hide from herself her self-abasement. 
So does it happen to many women, when 
their sudden investiture of womanhood comes 
to them, with its thoughts and sorrows, and, 
unaware, they still regard it with the eyes of 
a young girl. 


1 


CHAPTER V. 


THE PUZZLE OE PAINE CHETWYND. 

Then you won’t join us ? ” said the Junior 
Dean. 

I can’t say definitely,” replied Raine 
Chetwynd, rubbing his meerschaum bowl 
on his coat-sleeve. 

You had better,” urged ‘the other. ‘‘ We 
can make our arrangements fit into yours, if 
you’ll give us timely notice. Put aside a 
fortnight in July or August, and we will 
keep all the plums for then. You see we 
must have dates beforehand, on account of 
the guides.” 

Quite so,” Raine assented ; and it’s 
very good of you, Rogers. But somehow I 
shouldn’t care to tie myself down. I am not 
certain how long I may be likely to stay in 
Switzerland ; and I have half promised the 
Professor to take him away somewhere, if he 


74 A Study in Shadows. 

has had enough of Geneva. ' No ; you fel- 
lows make your own arrangements without 
reference to me. Tell me your dates, and - 
ITl very probably happen upon you and take 
my chance of what’s going.” 

The Junior Dean did not press the matter. 
Chetwynd was not a man to be governed by 
caprice, and doubtless had excellent reasons 
for not wishing to make a specific engage- 
ment. But Raine thought it necessary to 
apologize. He got up, and walked to the 
open window. 

“ Don’t think me a disagreeable beast.” 

The Junior Dean laughed, and came and 
leant on the sill by his side. 

“No one could be disagreeable on a day 
like this.” 

The window gave upon the College Gar- 
dens. The lawn was flooded with sunliofht, 
save for the splashes of shade under the two 
flowering chestnut-trees. The fresh voices 
of some girls up for Commemoration rose 
through the quiet afternoon air; the faint 
tinkle of a piano was heard from some rooms 
in the grey pile on the left that stood cool in 
i^adow. 




The Puzzle of Raine Chetwynd. 75 

The two men stood side by side for a long 
time without speaking, Raine leaning on his 
elbow, blowing great puffs of smoke that 
curled lazily outwards in the stillness, and 
the Junior Dean with his hands behind his 
back. 

We ought to be accounted happy,” said 
the latter, meditatively. This life of 
ours — ” 

^^Yes, it approaches Euthanasia some- 
times,” replied Raine, allusively — or it 
would, if one gave way to it.” 

‘‘ I can’t see that,” rejoined the other. 
“ A life of scholarly ease is not death — the 
charm of it lies in its perfect mingling of 
cloistered seclusion with the idyllic. Here, 
for instance ” — with a wave of a delicate 
hand — is Arden without its discomforts.” 

I am afraid I am not so ^ deep-contem- 
plative ’ as you,” said Raine, with a smile, 
and the idyllic always strikes me as a bit 
flimsy. I never could lie under a tree and 
pretend to read Theocritus. I’d sooner read 
Rabelais over a fire.” 

I think you’re ungrateful, Chetwynd. 
Where, out of Oxford — Cambridge, perhaps 


;6 


A Study in Shadows. 


— could you get a scene like this ? And not 
the scene alone, but the subtle spirit of it ? 
It seems always to me thought-haunted. 
We have grown so used to it that we do not 
appreciate sufficiently the perfect conditions 
around us for the development of all that is 
spiritual in us — apart from ‘ the windy ways 
of men.’ ” 

The ‘ windy ways of men ’ are very much 
better for us, if you ask me/’ replied Raine. 

mean ‘men ’ really and not technically,” 
he added, with a smile and a thought of 
undergraduate vanity. 

“Ah, but with this as a haven of refuge — 
the grey walls, the cool cloisters, the peace- 
ful charm of rooms like these looking out on 
to these beautiful, untroubled gardens.” 

“I don’t know,” said Raine. “Loving 
Oxford as I do, I sometimes breathe more 
freely out of it. There is too much intel- 
lectual mise en scene in all this. If you get 
it on your mind that you are expected to live 
up to it, you are rapidly qualifying yourself 
for the newest undergraduate culture-society, 
at a college that shall be nameless. Many a 
man is ruined by it.” 


The Puzzle of Raine Chetwynd. 77 

‘‘ Bat, my dear Chetwynd,’^ said tlie Junior 
Dean, there is a difference between loving 
‘ to walk the studious cloysters pale ’ and 
intellectual priggishness.” 

Doubtless. But it isn’t everyone who 
can walk honestly. The danger lies in find- 
ing another fellow doing the same. Then 
the two of you join together and say how 
beautiful it is, and you call in a third to 
share the seiisation, and you proceed to 
admire yourselves as being vastly superior 
meditative persons. Then finally, according 
to modern instinct, you throw it into a Pale 
Cloyster Company, Limited, which is Ana- 
thema.” 

Switzerland will do you good, Ohetwynd,” 
remarked the Junior Dean quickly. ‘‘Par- 
ticularly as your mind is so disorganized as 
to misinterpret Milton.” 

Paine laughed, stretched himself lazily 
after the manner of big men, and lounged 
back on the window-sill, his hands in his 
pockets. 

“ I don’t care. I’d misinterpret anybody 
— even you. Pve had enough of Oxford for 
a time. You see I have had a long spell 


78 


A Study in Shadows. 


since January. There were Entrance Scholar- 
ships and a lot of bursarial work for Evans 
to be done that kept me up nearly all the 
Easter vacation. I suppose you are right. 
I want a change.” 

“ The mountain air would be better for 
you than a stuffy town.” 

“ Oh, good gracious ! ” laughed Eaine, 
swelling out his deep chest, “ I am healthy 
enough. You don’t presume to say I am 
pale with overwork ! ” 

“No,” said the Junior Dean, mentally 
contrasting his own spare form with liis 
colleague’s muscular development. Yon 
have a constitution like an ox. But you 
would get better air into your lungs and 
better rest in your mind.’’ 

“ Well, perhaps you are right,” said Raine. 
“ Anyhow, if Geneva gets too hot for me, I 
can come to you and sit on the top of the 
Jungfrau with some snow on my head and 
get cool.” 

The Junior Dean, in spite of his sentiment, 
was a man of the woidd, and he scented a 
metaphor in Raine’s speech. He glanced at 
him keenly through his yince-nez. Where- 


The Puzzle of Rjtine Chetwynd. 79 

upon Eaine burst out laughing and took him 
by the arm. 

“ Look here, are you going to put in an 
appearance at the St. John’s garden-party?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, time is getting on. Let us go.” 

And on their way thither down the Broad, 
they discussed the Masonic Ball, the results 
of the Schools, the prospects of the cricket 
match, and kindred subjects, such as are 
dear to the hearts of dons in summer time. 

The first person that Raine met at the 
Garden Party was his cousin, Mrs. Monteith. 
She skilfully disposed of a couple of pretty 
nieces she was chaperoning to some passing 
undergraduates, and walked up and down 
the lawn by his side. 

She was a small, pretty, keen-faced woman, 
some two or three years his senior. Once 
upon a time she had fostered a conviction 
that Raine and herself had been born for one 
another, and had sought to share his soul’s 
secrets. As long as she depended upon his 
initiative, all went well ; but one day, having 
forced open a scrupulously locked apartment, 
she recoiled in pained surprise. Whereupon 


A Study in Shadozvs. 


8o 

sbe decided that she had mistaken the inten- 
tions of the Creator, and forthwith married 
Dr. Monteitl], whose souks secrets were as 
neatly docketed and catalogued as the slips 
of his unfinished Homeric Lexicon. But she 
always ^claimed a vested interest in Raine’s 
welfare, which he, in a laughing, contented 
way, was pleased to allow. 

So you’re off‘ to Switzerland,” she said. 
Wliat are you going to do there, besides 
seeing Uncle Louis ?” 

o 

“ Rest,” he replied. “ Live in a pension 
and rest.” 

“You’ll find, it dismally uninteresting. 
How long are you going to stay there ? ” 
“Possibly most of the Long.” 

Mrs. Monteith opened her eyes and stopped 
twirling her parasol. 

“My dear Raine ! In G-eneva? ” 

“My dear Nora, I really don’t see any- 
thing in that to cretite such surprise. I’ve 
just had Rogers expressing himself on the 
subject. Why shouldn’t I live in Geneva ? 
What objection have you ? ” 

“ If you talk to me in that vehement way 


The Ptizzle of Raine Cketwynd. 8 1 

you will make people faucyyou are declaring 
a hopeless passion for me.” 

Let them,” said Kaine, they won’t be 
greater fools than I am.” 

What on earth do you mean ? ” 

Oh, don’t be alarmed. I am not going 
to declare myself. I wonder whether you 
would laugh at me, if I told you some- 
thing.” 

It would depend whether it were funny 
or not.” 

That would be a matter of opinion,” he 
replied with a smile. 

‘‘Well, first let me know in what capacity 
I am to listen to it.” 

“ As guide, philosopher, and friend,” he 
said. Let us get out of the way of these 
people. There are the Kennets bearing 
down upon us.” 

They found a garden seat in a secluded 
corner imder a tree, and sat down. Mrs. 
Monteith laid her gloved fingers on his arm. 

“ Don’t tell me it’s about a woman, 
please.” 

‘‘ How did you know it’s about a 
woman ? ” 


a 


82 


A Study in Shadows. 

“ Mj dear boy, you wouldn’t drag me to 
this sequestered wilderness if it were about 
a man ! Of course it’s a woman. You 
liave it written all over your face. Well ? ” 

“ If you are not sympathetic I shan’t tell 
you.” 

“ Oh. Raine ! ” 

She moved a little nearer to him, and 
settled her skirts. When a woman settles 
her skirts by a man’s side it impresses him 
with a sense of confidential relations. 

“ Nora,” he said, “ when a man doesn’t 
know whctlier he is in love or not, what is 
the best thing he can do?” 

“ The best thing is to make up his mind 
that he isn’t. The next best is to find 
out.” 

“ Then I am going to do the next best 
thing. I am going to Geneva to find out.” 

“ And how long have you been like 
this ? ” 

“ Since January.” 

“ Why didn’t you tell me before? ” 

“ Because I did not relish telling it to my- 
self. Now I have acknowledged it, I have 
been pulling the petals off the marguerite. 


The Ptizzle of Raine Chetwynd. 83 

in a kind of inverse waj, for montlis, and 
the pastime has palled. The dear old man 
thinks I am going solely for his sake, and I 
feel rather a humbug. But of course — 
well-” 

“ Most of us are.” 

” What ? ” 

“ Humbugs,” replied the lady sweetly. 
“ Come, honour bright. Don’t you know 
whether you are in love or not ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Would you like to be ? ” 

“ I don’t quite know. That’s the irri- 
tating part about it.” 

“ Oh, I see ! Then it’s a question of the 
lady’s desirability. Oh, Raine, I know these 
pensions. I hope it isn’t a Polish countess 
with two poodles and a past. Tell me, 
what is she like ? ” 

“ Well, to tell you the truth,” he replied, 
with a strange conjuncture of a humorous 
twinkle in his eyes and a deprecatory smile, 
“ it is impossible to say.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Because she isn’t one, but two.” 

“ Two what ? ” 

Q 2 


84 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ Two individuals.” 

“And you don’t know wkicli one to fall 
in love with ? ” 

Raine nodded, lounging with arms ex- 
tended along the back of the seat. 

Mrs. Monteith looked at him in silence for 
a few moments, and then broke into rippling 
laughter. 

“ This is delicious. ©eXw, Qikta (fyikijcraL, 
like the warrior in Anacreon ! ” 

“ Don’t quote, Nora,” said Raine. “ It is 
one of your bad habits. You are trying 
enough with your list of first lines of 
Horace ; but you know nothing at all about 
Anacreon.” 

“ I do ! ” she cried, wheeling round to face 
him. “ Joshua was correcting the proofs of 
his edition during our honeymoon. I used 
to make him translate them — it was a way of 
getting him to make love to me. There ! 
Now I’ll repeat it : ©eXw, dekoy ^ikyja-ar 
ineid' *Epo}<; c^iXeiv pe. Oh, my dear Raine, 
it is too delicious ! You, of all people in the 
world ! ” 

“ Then your verdict is that I am supremely 
ridiculous ? ” 


The Puzzle of Paine Chetwynd. 85 

I am afraid I must say it strikes me in 
that light.’’ 

‘‘ Thanks,” said Raine serenely. That 
Avas what I was trying to get at. I have been 
jesting a little, but there is a substratum of 
truth in my confession. You confirm me in 
my own opinion — I am supremely ridiculous. 
I like to make certain of things. It is so 
futile to have this complicated state of mind 
—I hate it.” 

Do you ? ” said Mrs. Monteith. How 
different from a woman ; there is nothing 
she enjoj^s more.” 

After Raine had taken her back to her 
charges, he remained to exchange a few 
civilities with the St. John’s people and their 
wives, and then strolled back to his own 
college. He mounted his staircase, with a 
smile on his lips, recalling his conversation 
with his cousin. How far had he been in 
earnest ? He could scarcely tell. Certainly 
both Katherine and Felicia had attracted him 
during his Christmas visit. He had been 
thrown into more intimate contact with them 
than he usually was with women. Perhaps 
that was the reason that they stood out dis- 


86 


A Study in Shadows. 


tinct against tlie half-known feminine group 
whom he was accustomed to meet at the 
crowded afternoon receptions to which 
Oxford society is addicted. Perhaps, too, 
the fact of his going from Oxford, where 
men are a glut in the market, to the Pension 
Boccard, where they are at an extravagant 
premium, had something to do with it. 
Some unsuspected index in his robust or- 
ganization was sensitive to the sudden leap 
in values. Whatever was the reason, he 
retained a vivid impression of the two per- 
sonalities, and, as he had written to his 
father — in the same half-jesting strain as he 
had talked with his cousin — he found him- 
self bound to admit that filial duty was not 
the only magnet that attracted him to 
Geneva. As for his disinclination to bind 
himself to a definite mountaineering eni^agfe- 
merit with Rogers and his party, he was glad 
of these nebulous fancies as affording him a 
conscientious reason. The Junior Dean was 
an excellent fellow and an Alpine enthusiast, 
but he was apt to be academic, even on the 
top of the Jungfrau. 

These considerations were running lightly 


The Puzzle of Raine Chetwynd. 87 

througli his mind as he sat down to his desk 
to finish off some tutorial work before 
dinner, in the little inner room which he 
made his sanctuary, whither undergraduates 
only penetrated for strictly business pur- 
poses. The outer keeping-room was fur- 
nished with taste and comfort for the 
general eye, but here Raine kept such things 
as were nearly connected with his own life. 
As lie wrote, he idly took up an ivory paper- 
knife in his left hand, and pressed it against 
his cheek. 

He paused to think, looked mechanically 
at the paper-knife, and then lost himself in 
a day-dream. For the bit of ivory had 
taken him back many years — to the days 
when he had just entered on his manhood. 

He started, threw down his pen, and leant 
back in his chair, a shadow of earnestness 
over his face. 

That was the boy,” he said, half aloud. 

What would it be for the man ? If this 
foolishness is serious — as the other — ” 

And, after a few seconds, he clapped both 
hands down on the leather arms of his chair. 

“ It both equally — it must be — Fll 


/ 


88 A Study in Shadows. 

swear that it is ! And so there’s nothing in 
it.” 

He pushed aside his unfinished schedule, 
and took a sheet of note-paper from the 
stationery-case. 

My dear Nora,” he wrote, I have been 
thinking you may have misunderstood my 
rubbish this afternoon. So don’t think I 
propose anything so idiotic as a searcfi for a 
wife. Remember there are two, and there 
is safety in numbers. If you will go over to 
Geneva and make a third attraction, vou 
may be absolutely unconcerned as to the 
safety of 

“ Your affectionate cousin, 

“ IIaINE CHETWyND.” 

When he had tossed the letter into the 
tray for the next post, he felt relieved, and 
went on with his work. 

But the next mornino; he received a note 
by hand from Mrs. Monteith, which he tore 
up wrathfully into little pieces and threw 
into the waste-paper basket. 

It ran : — 

“ Mt dear Raine, — Men are the funniest 


The Puzzle of Raine Chetwynd. 89 

creatures ! I laughed over your letter till I 
cried. • 

Your affectionate cousin, 

“ Noka Monte ith.’’ 

Which shows how a woman can know your 
mind from a sample, when you yourself are 
in doubt with the whole piece before you. 


CHAPTER yi. 


SOMMER CHANGES. - 

From the moment of mutual revelation, the 
relations between Katherine and Felicia 
underwent a change, not the less appreciable 
for being subtle. This was inevitable. In 
fact, Felicia had dreaded the first con- 
fidential talk as much as she dreaded the 
arrival of Raine. But these things are 
infinitely simpler than we ai’e apt to imagine, 
by reason of the mei'e habit of human 
intercourse. The hours that they spent 
together at first, passed outwardly as 
pleasantly as before. But Katherine was 
more reserved, limited the conversation as 
much as possible to the ephemeral concrete, 
and Felicia, keeping a guard over herself, 
lost somewhat in simplicity of manner. 
Imperceptibly, however, they drifted apart, 
and saw less of one another. A tendency 




Stimmer- Changes. 


91 


towards mis judgment of Katherine was a 
necessary consequence of the sense of 
indelicacy under which the girl chafed. 
The rare utterances of feeling or opinion 
that the other gave vent to, instead of 
awakening her sympathy, aroused undefined 
instincts of antagonism. She sought the 
old scholar’s society more and more, boldly 
put into execution a project she had long 
rather tremulously contemplated, and estab- 
lished herself as his amanuensis. 

When he saw her, with inky fingers and 
ruffled hair, copying out his crabbed manu- 
script, he would thank her for her self- 
sacrifice. But Felicia would look up fer- 
vently and shake her head. 

You can’t tell what a blessed relief it 
is, Mr. Chetwynd.” 

So the old man accepted her services 
gratefully ; though, if the truth were known, 
the trained man of letters, w^ho was. accus- 
tomed to do everything himself with minute 
care, was sorely put to, it at times as to how 
to occupy his fair secretary — especially as 
she, with the conscientiousness of her sex, 
insisted on scrupulously filling up every 


92 A Study in Shadows. 

moment of tlie time she devoted to his 
service. 

But Katherine smiled sadly and compre- 
hendingly at Felicia’s ingenuous strategical 
movement. 

It seems rather a pity you never thought 
of it before,” she said, one day, kindly. 
‘‘ Regular occupation is a great blessing ; 
it prevents one from growing lackadaisical.” 

‘‘ Yes,” replied Felicia, falling in with her 
tone ; ‘‘ I am afraid I was beginning to get 
into evil ways.” 

With the advent of summer, there was 
much bustle in the pension, bringing re- 
lations into greater harmony. The chatter 
of millinery filled the air. Ladies ran up 
against each other in shops, rendered 
mutual advice, and grew excited over the 
arrival of each other’s parcels. 

“ One touch of chiffon makes the whole 
world kin,” said Katheiune, who looked 
upon matters with a satirical, yet kindly 
eye. 

She was drawn perforce into the move- 
ment, being consulted on all sides as to 


93 


Summer Changes. 

I 

matching of shades and the suitability of 
hats. She bought outright an entire ward- 
robe for Miss Bunter, who begged her to go 

shopping with her, and then sat helpless by 

• 

the counter, fingering mountains of mate- 
rials. Even Frau Schultz was softened. 
But she was the only one who did not 
consult Katherine. She took Felicia into 
her confidence, and exhibited, among other 
seasonable vestments, a blood-coloured 
blouse, covered with mauve spots as large 
as two-franc pieces, which she pronounced 
to be very genteel. Every one had some- 
thing new to wear for the summer. Mme. 
Popea scattered scraps of stuff about her 
room, in a kind of libationary joy. The 
little dressmaker, bristling with pins, 
haunted the landings, when not within the 
little cabinet assigned to her, from outside 
whose door could be unceasingly heard the 
sharp tearing of materials and the droning 
buzz of the sewing-machine. 

Summer changes took place in the pension 
itself. The storey above, which was let 
unfurnished during the winter, was in- 
corporated, as usual, into the general estab- 


94 


A Study in Shadows. 


lishment. There was a week of gleaning, 
during which the house was given over to 
men in soft straw hats and b’ue blouses. 
And then a week of straightening, when 
new curtains were put up, and floors re- 
waxed, and dingy coveriogs removed from 
chairs and sofas, which burst out resplendent 
in bright green velvet. The latter proceed- 
ings were superintended by an agile young 
man in alpaca sleeves and green baize apron. 
It was the summer waiter, who had emerged 
from the mysterious limbo where summer 
waiters hibernate, and was resuming his 
duties, apparently at the point he had left 
them at the end of the previous season. 
Mine. Boccard and he conversed at vast 
distances, which was trydng to those who 
did not see how the welfare of the pension 
was being thereby furthered. In her quiet 
moments, the good lady^ was busy sending 
out prospectuses and answering replies to 
advertisements and applications. She went 
about smiling perspiringly' at the prospect 
of a successful season. 

The first new guests to arrive were M. le 
Commandant Poruichon and his wife. He 


Summer Changes. 


95 


was a stout-hearted old Gascon, a veteran of 
Solferino and Gravelotte, who talked in a 
great voice and with alarming gestures of 
blood and battles, and obeyed his little 
brown wife like a lamb. His friend, Colonel 
Cazet, was coming with his wife later on. 
For some years they had been regular 
summer boarders of Mine. Boccard. The 
next arrival was a middle-aged man, called 
Skeogh, who had commercial business in 
Geneva. At the first he caused disappoint- 
ment through adding up figures in a little 
black book at mealtimes. But Frau Schultz 
found him a most superior person, after 
listening to a confidential account of the jute 
market, in which commodity she seemed to 
have been vaguely interested at one period of 
her life. Whereupon she talked to him about 
Lottchen, and he put awmy the black book. 

Quelle Sirene ! ” cried Mme. Popea, in 
wicked exultation. 

The next to come was Paine Ohetwynd. 
The old man went to the railway-station in 
the morning to meet him, and bore him back 
in triumph. 

Oh, Paine, my dear, dear boy,” he said, 


96 


A Study in Shadows. 


watching him consuming the coffee and 
petit pain he had ordered up to his room, 
“you can’t tell how I have longed to see 
you again.” 

“Well, you shall not exile yourself any 
longer,” said Raine, heartily. “ I am going 
to carry you back to Oxford, The place is 
a howling wilderness without you. If I 
could remember the names of all who sent 
appealing messages to you, it would be a list 
as long as Leporello’s. And you mustn’t 
live away from me again, dad.” 

“ No,” replied the old man ; “ but you 
see I couldn’t have done this work as well 
in Oxford, could I ? ” 

“ It’s a noble work,” said Raine, with the 
scholar’s instinct. 

“ Yes,” replied the old man with a sigh ; 
“ it wanted doing, it wanted doing. And I 
think I have done it very well.” 

“ I must overhaul your scrip, while I am 
here. Let me have a look at it.” 

“ Don’t bother about it yet, my boy. 
Finish your coffee. Let me ring for some 
more. You must be tired after your lo’ng 
journey.” 


S2nnmer Changes. 97 

Tired ? ” laughed Raine. Oh dear no, 
and I can go on quite well till breakfast. I 
only want to see what kind of stuff you have 
been doing since I have been away.’’ 

The professor went to his drawer and 
pulled out the manuscript, his heart glowing 
- at Raine’ s loving interest in his work — a 
never-failing source of pride and comfort. 
Here it is, nearly finished.” 

Raine took the scrip from him and turned 
over the pages, with a running commentary 
on the scope within which the subject was 
treated. At last he uttered an exclamation 
of surprise, laid the book on his knee and 
looked up at his father. 

‘‘ Hullo ! what is all this ? ” 

The old man peeped over his shoulder. 
That is my secretary’s writing,” he 
explained ; Miss Graves, you remember 
her, don’t you ? ” 

‘‘ Of course ; but — ” 

Well, she will insist upon it, Raine ; she 
comes in for a couple of hours a day. It 
pleases her, really, and I can’t help it.” 

What. a dear little soul she must be,” 
said Raine. 


H 


98 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ Ah ! she is, my boy ; every day she seems 
to wind a fresh thread round my heart. We 
shall have to take her back to Oxford with 
us, eh, Baine?” 

He laughed softly, took up the manuscript 
and put it tenderly away again in the 
drawer, while Eaine lit his pipe. The latter 
did not suspect the hint that his father had 
meant to convey, but he took advantage of 
the short pause that followed to change the 
conversation. 

It was Mme. Boccard’s arrangement that 
Baine should take Katherine’s place next to 
his father, and thus have her as his neigh- 
bour. It would disappoint M. le Professeur 
if he were separated from his petite amie. 
Miss Graves, and she was sure that Mrs. 
Stapleton would not mind. 

“ Make any arrangement you please,” 
Katherine had replied, with some demureness. 

Whereupon Mme. Boccard thanked her, 
and wished that everybody was as gentle 
and easy to deal with, and Katherine had 
smiled inwardly, at the same time despising 
herself a little for doing so, as ,is the way 
with women. 


99 


Summer Changes. 

As for Felicia, the disposition of seats 
caused her painful embarrassment. She 
dared not look at Katherine, lest she should 
read the welcome in her eyes ; she dared not 
look at Raine, lest the trouble in her own 
should betray her. She kept them down- 
cast, listenim^ to Raine’s voice with a burnino: 
cheek and beating heart. Only when the 
meal was over, and the old man detained her 
in conversation by the window, and Raine 
came up to them, did she summon up courage 
to meet his glance fully. 

So the professor has caught you in his 
dusty web. Miss Graves,” he said, smiling. 
‘‘ You were very sweet to let yourself be 
caught.” 

Oh ! I walked in of my own accord,' I 
assure you,” I’eplied Felicia, and you have 
no idea what trouble I had. He wants to 
dismiss me at the present moment. Do 
plead for me, Mr. Clietwynd. Of course, I 
know I should be in the way in the pro- 
fessor’s robm now — oh ! yes, I should, that 
is quite settled — but I want him to give me 
something to do by myself.” 

I will try my best for you, Miss Graves,” 

H 2 


loo A Study in Shadows. 

said E.aine ; “ but you don’t know what 
an unnatural, hard-hearted — ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Chetwynd ! ” said Felicia. 

“Well, my dear,” said the old man, “ you 
must have your way. “ It was only for your 
own sake I suggested it. I am always so 
afraid of making you weary — and it is very, 
very dry stuff — but your help is invalu- 
able, my dear. It will be the same as usual, 
then. Only I think I shall cut down the 
time to half, as I, too, am going to be lazy 
now.” 

“ Now you will see what real laziness is. 
Miss Graves,” said Raine. “ Do you know 
my father’s idea of leisure P — what remains 
of a day after nine hours’ work. Seven he 
calls laziness; six is abject sloth.” 

“ Ah ! not now, Eaine,” said the old man, 
“ not now.” 

He turned to go. The two younger 
people’s eyes met, both touched by the same 
thing — the pathos of old age that sounded in 
the old man’s words. 

“ How you must love him ! ” said Felicia, 
in a low voice. 

“I do,” replied Raine, earnestly; “and 


Stimmer Changes. i o i 

it makes me happy to see that he has not 
been unloved during my absence. I feel 
more about what you have done for him 
than I can say.” 

He smiled, involuntarily put out his hand, 
and pressed hers that she gave him. Then 
they parted, he to follow his father, she to 
go to her room serener and happier than 
she had been for many days, and to weave a 
wondrous web out of a few gracious words, 
a smile, and a pressure of the hand. If it 
were possible — if it were only possible ! 
There would be no shame then — or only 
just that of it to raise joy with a leaven of 
tremulousness. 

Meanwhile Raine sat in his father’s room, 
and continued the interrupted gossip. But 
towards three o’clock the old man’s eyes grew 
heavy, as he leaned his head back in the arm- 
chair. He struggled to keep them open for 
Eaine’s sake, but at last the latter rose with 
a smile. 

Why, you are sleepy, dad ! ’* 

‘‘Yes,” murmured the old man, apolo- 
getically. “ It’s a new habit I have con- 
tracted — I must break myself of it gradually. 


102 


A Study in Shadows. 


I suppose I am getting old, Raine. Tou 
won’t think it unkind of me, will you ? J ust 
forty winks, Raine.” 

“ Have your -nap out comfortably,” said 
the young man. 

He fetched a footstool, arranged a cushion 
with singular tenderness behind the old man, 
and left him to his sleep. Then he went out 
for a stroll through the town. 

It was a hot, sunny day. At the end of the 

street, the gate of the Jardin Anglais stood 

invitingly open. Raine entered, and came 

upon the enclosed portion of the Quai that 

forms the promenade, pleasant with its line 

0 

of shady seats under the trees on one side, 
and the far-stretching lake on the other. He 
paused for awhile, and leant over the balus- 
trade to light a cigarette and to admire the 
view — the cloudless sky, the deep-blue water 
flecked with white sails, the imposing mass 
of the hotels on the Quai du Mont Blanc, 
the bnsy life on the bridge, beneath which 
the Rhone flows out of the lake. He drew 
in a long breath. Somehow it was more ex- 
hilai’ating than his college gardens. The place 
was not crowded, as the tourist season had not 


103 


Summer Changes. 

yet set in. But the usual number of nurses and 
children scattered themselves promiscuously 
along the path, and filled the air with shrill 
voices. Raine, continuing his stroll, had 
not gone many steps when he perceived, far 
ahead, a lady start from her seat and run to 
pick up a child that had fallen down. On 
advancing farther, he saw that it was Mrs. 
Stapleton, who had got the child on her 
knees and was tenderly wiping the little 
gravel-scratched handsi while the nurse, who 
had come up, stood by phlegmatic. 

It was a pretty sight, instinct with femi- 
nine charm, and struck gratefully on the 
man’s senses. Katherine looked very fresh 
and delicate in her sprigged lilac blouse, 
plain serge skirt, and simple black straw hat, 
and the attitude in which she bent down to the 
chubby, tearful face under the white sun- 
bonnet was very graceful and womanly. She 
kissed the child and handed it to its nurse as 
Raine came up. She greeted him with a smile. 

Quite a catastrophe — but she will forget 
all about it in half an hour. It must be 
delightful to be a child.” 

If all hurts are so promptly and tenderly 


104 Study in Shadows. 

healed, I should think it must be,” said 
E.aine. 

“ Thank you,” she said, with an upward 
glance ; “ that is a pretty compliment.” 

Raine bowed, laughed his acknowledg- 
ments, and with a word of request, sat down 
by her side. 

“ Is this a haunt of yours ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, I suppose it is. It is so near the 
pension — and I love the open air.” 

“ So do I. That is another point of con- 
tact. We discovered a good many, if you 
remember, at Christmas. What have you 
been doing since then?” 

“Forgetting a good many old lessons, and 
trying to teach myself a few new ones. Or, 
if you like, making bricks without straw — 
trying to live a life without incidents.” 

“ Which less epigrammatically means that ' 
you have had a dull, cheerless time. I am 
sorry. You have been here all the winter 
and spring?” 

“ Yes. Where else should I have been ? ” 

“ In a happier place,” said Raine. “ You 
don’t seem made to lead this monotonous 
existence.” 


I 


Summer Changes. 


105 


Oh ! I suppose I am, since I am leading 
it. Human beings, like water, find their 
own level. The Pension Boccard seems to 
be mine.” 

You smile, as if you liked it,” he said, 
rather puzzled. 

Would you have me cry to you ? ” 

‘‘ Perhaps not on the day of my coming, 
but afterwards, I wish you would.” 

She flashed a glance at him, the lightning 
reconnoitre of woman ever on the defensive. 
But the sight of his strong, frank face and 
kind eyes reassured her. She was silent for 
a moment, dreaming a vivid day-dream. 
She was taking him at his word, crying with 
her face on his shoulder and his arm around 
her. It was infinite comfort. But she 
quickly roused herself. 

<r 

Don’t you know your Burton ? A kind 
man once pointed it out to me — ^ As much 
pity is to be taken of a woman weeping, as of 
a goose going barefoot.’ It was the same that 
told me a woman cried to hide her feelings.” 
‘‘That kind of epigram can be made like 
match-boxes at twopence farthing a gross,” 
said Raine, impatiently. “You have only 


io6 A Study in Shadows. 

to dress up an old adage with a mask of 
spite.” 

“You haven’t changed,” she said with a 
smile. “ You are just the same as when 
you left.” 

“ More so,” he said, enigmatically. “ Much 
more so. Then I thought it would do you 
good to cry. Now I wish you would. I 
suj)pose it seems odd I should say this to 
you. You must forgive me.” 

“But why should,! cry when I have no 
trouble ? ” she asked, disregarding his 
apology. “ Besides, I don’t go about be- 
wailing my lot in life. Do you think I am 
unhappy ? ” 

“ Yes,” he replied, bluntly, “ I do. I’ll 
tell YOU what made me first think so. It 
was at the theatre at Christmas, when we 
saw ‘ Denise.’ I was watching your face in 
repose.” 

“It is a painful play,” she said, quietly, 
but her lip quivered a little, and a faint flush 
came into her cheek. “ Besides, I was very 
happy that evening.” 

He was sitting sideways on the bench, 
watching her with some earnestness ; she 


Summer Changes. 107 

was drawing scrawls on the gravel witli the 
point of her parasol. Both started when 
they heard a harsh voice addressing them. 

“ Ach ! You are here. Is it not a 
beautiful afternoon ? ” 

It was Frau Schultz who spoke. Felicia 
was by her side. Raine rose to his feet, 
took off his hat, and uttered a pleasant com- 
monplace of greeting. But Frau Schultz 
put her hand on Felicia’s arm and moved 
away. 

We will not detain you. I am going to 
the dentist, and Miss Graves is accompany- 
ing me.” 

So Raine lifted his hat again and resumed 
his seat. 

‘‘ That is rough on Miss Graves,” he said, 
W’atching their retiring figures and noting 
the contrast between the girl’s slim waist 
and the elder woman’s broad, red and mauve 
spotted back. Bat she is a sweet-natured 
girl. Isn’t she?” 

Yes,” assented Katherine. He will be 
a happy man who wins her.” 

‘^You are right there,” he replied in his 
downright way, unconscious of the question- 


lo8 A Study in Shadows. 

ing pain that lay behind the woman’s calm 
grey eyes. “ Few people, I should think, 
could know her without loving her. It is 
touching to see the relations between herself 
and my father.” 

“You will see a great dehl of her, for that 
reason.” 

“ I hope so,” he said, brightly. 

Again Katherine kept down the question 
that struggled to leap into her eyes. ' There 
was a short silence, during which she turned 
idly over the leaves of the book that was in 
her lap. It was “ Diana of the Crossways.” 

“A noble book,” he said, glancing at the 
title. “ But I never quite understand how 
Diana sold the secret.” 

“No?” said Katherine, “I think I can 
tell you.” 

. And so she gave him of her woman’s 
knowledge of her sex, and the time passed 
pleasantly, till she judged it prudent to bid 
him farewell. 


CHAPTER VII. 


Katherine’s hour. 

“ Ach so ! ” said Frau Schultz as soon as 
they were out of earshot, “ she has begun 
already. It is not decent. In a little while 
he will become quite entangled.” 

Felicia looked away and did not speak. 
The other went on, — 

“ She might have w^aited a fortnight, a 
week, and done it gradually. But the very 
first day — ” 

“ Please don’t let us discuss it,” said 
Felicia wearily. 

“ But I will discuss it ; I am a virtuous 
woman, and I don’t like to see such things. 
He is too good to fall a victim. I shall speak 
to the professor.” 

“ Do you think a gentleman like the 
professor would listen to you, Frau 


no A Shidy hi Shadows. 

Sell 111 tz ? ’’ asked Felicia, scarcely veiling her 
disgust. 

This was a new idea to Frau Schultz. 
She turned it over with some curiosity, and 
metaphorically sniffed at it. Then she left 
it alone, to Felicia’s relief, ancT the rest of 
their conversation passed without allusion to 
the subject. 

But her comments upon the meeting in 
the Jardin Anglais made an unpleasant im- 
pression upon the girl, revived the memory 
of the previous indictment of Katherine 
which she had rebutted with such indigna- 
tion. But now, she could not regard 
Katherine with the same feelings of loyalty. 
On the contrary, the growing distrust and 
antagonism seemed to have come to a liead. 
The instinct of combat was aroused in her 
for the first time, and she began to dislike 
Katherine with a younger woman’s strong, 
active dislike. 

Unconsciously to herself, the atmosphei'e 
of the pension had tainted the purity of her 
judgment. She had learned that little 
knowledge of things evil which is so 
dangerous. Katherine was not to her merely 


Katherine s Hour. 


Ill 


a rival, loving Eaine Clietwjmd with a fair, 
pure love like her own, but a scheming 
woman, one of those to whom love is a 
pastime, occupation, vanity — she knew not 
Avhat — but still a thing unhonoured and 
conferring no honour on the man. And, as 
the days went on, this attitude became more 
definite, gaining stability in measure as the 
woman within her took tbe place of the 
child. The thouglit, too, took shape: why 
should she not use maidenly means to keep 
him by her side, when Katherine used un- 
worthy ones ? And with the thought her 
ashamed ness wore off, and she began to 
battle bravely for her love. 

Katherine could not help noticing these 
signs of active rivalry. At first she was 
hurt. She would have dearly liked to 
retain Felicia’s friendship. But what could 
she do ? 

She was in her room one morning when 
the sound of a carriage drawing up in the 
street below, struck upon her ear. Out of 
idle curiosity she stepped upon the little 
balcony and looked down. Old Mr. Chet- 
wynd, Eaine and Felicia were going out for 


II2 


A Study in Shadows. 


a drive. She watched them settle themselves 
laughingly in their places, and smiled not un- 
kindly at Felicia’s young radiant face. But 
as they drove olf, Felicia glanced up, caught 
sight of her, and the expression changed. 
Its triumph smote Katherine with a sense of 
pain. She retired from the balcony wearily. 
A vague fancy came to her to go away from 
Geneva, to leave the field open for Felicia. 
She dallied with it for a moment. And then 
the fierce reaction set in. 

No. A thousand times no. Why should 
she be quixotic ? Whoever in the world had 
acted quixotically towards her ? Her life 
had been wrecked — up to now, without one 
gleam of light in any far-off haven. She had 
been tossed about by the waves, an idle 
derelict. Only lately had hope come. It was 
a wild, despairing hope, at the best — but it 
had kept her alive for the past six months. 
AVhy should she give way to this young girl 
— untouched, untroubled save by this one 
first girlish fancy ? All the world was before 
her, waiting with its tributes to throw at the 
feet of her youth and fairness and charm. In 
a few months she would go out into it again, 


Katherine s Hotir. 


113 

leave the Pension Boccard and its narrowing 
life for ever. In a year it would be but a 

memory, Raine Chetwynd but a blushing 

% 

episode. Many men would love her. She 
would have her pick of the noblest. Why 
should she herself then yield her single 
frail hope to her who had so many fair 
ones ? 

She clung with passionate insistence to this 
self -justification. Since her lot of loneliness 
had fallen upon her, she had accepted it 
implicitly, never sought to form ties of even 
the most delicate and ephemeral nature. 
She had contemplated the grey, loveless, 
lonely stretch of future years as the logical 
consequence of the past, and sometimes its 
stern inevitableness crushed her. Life for 
life, which had the greater need of joy — her 
own or that of the young girl ? The law of 
eternal justice seemed to ring answer in 
her heart — as it has rung in the heart of 
every daughter of Hagar since the world 
began. 

Late that evening she was standing on 
the balcony outside the salon. They had 
passed a merry evening. A concert-singer 

1 


1 14 A Study in Shadows, 

from London, wlio had arrived the day 
before, had good-naturedly sung for them. 

Old Mr. Chetwynd had been witty and 
charming. Commandant Pornichon had told, 
with Gascon verve, stories of camp and war. 
Paine had talked and laughed in his whole- 
hearted way. Everyone had been gay, good- 
tempered. Eelicia had been in buoyant 
mood, adding her fresh note to the talk ; had 
even addressed to her a few laughing words. 
One by one all had left the salon. The last 
had been Mme. Popea, who had remained 
for a quiet chatter with her about the events 
of the evening. She was alone now, in the 
mooidight, feeling less at war with herself 
than during the day. Laughter and song 
are good for the heart. She leant her cheek 
on her elbow and mused. Perhap? she was 
a wicked woman to try to come between a 
girl and her happiness. After all, would not 
the sacrifice of self be a noble thing? 

But suddenly she heard the salon door open, 
and an entering footstep that caused her heart 
to leap within her. With an incontrollable 
impulse she moved and showed herself at the 
window. 



She loved to hear him talk. 




Katherine s Hour. 


115 

“ How delightful to find you ! ” exclaimed 
Raine. “ I came almost on a forlorn hope.” 
“ I stayed to sentimentalize a little in the 
moonlight,” said Katherine. “ I thought 
you had gone to the cafe.” 

“ No ; I have been sitting with my father,” 
he said, pulling a chair on to the balcony and 
motioning her to it. “ And then, when I 
left him, I thought it would be pleasant to 
talk to you — so I came. I have not had a 
word with you all day.” 

“ I have missed our argument too,” 
admitted Katherine. “ So you had a pleasant 
expedition ? ” 

“ Very,” said Raine. But I wished you 
had been there.” 

“ You had your father and Felicia.” 

“ That was the worst of it,” he said 
laughingly. “ They are so much in love with 
one another, that I was the third that makes 
company nought.” 

He talked about the drive to Vevey, the 
habits and customs of the Swiss, digressed 
into comparisons between the peasant classes 
of various countries. Katherine, who had 
wandered over most of the beaten track in 

I 2 


1 1 6 A Study in Shadows. 

Europe, supplied liis arguments witli illus-. 

trations. She loved to hear him talk. 

* 

His knowledge was wide and accurate, his 
criticisms vigorous. The strength of his 
intellectual fibre alone differentiated him, in 
her eyes, from ordinary men. His vision was 
so clear, his touch upon all subjects so firm, 
and yet, at need, so delicate ; she felt her- 
self so infinitely little of mind compared with 
him. They talked on till past midnight ; 
but long ere that the conversation had drifted 
around things intimately subjective. 

As they parted for the night at the end of 
Katherine’s corridor, she could not help 
saying to him somewhat humbly, — 

“ Thank you for the talks. You do not 
know how I value them. They lift me into 
a different atmosphere,” 

Raine looked at her a little wonderingly. 
Her point of view had never occurred to 
him. Thoroughly honest and free from vanity 
of every kind, he could not even now quite 
comprehend it, 

“ It is you who raise me,” he replied. “ To 
talk with you is an education in all fine and 


Katherine s Hour. 


117 

delicate things. How many women do you 
think there are like you ? ” 

His words rang soothingly in her ear until 
she slept. In the morning she seemed to 
wake to a newer conception of life. 

And as the days went by, and their talks 
alone together on the balcony, in the Jardin 
Anglais, and wdiere not, deepened in intimacy, 
and the nature of the man she loved unfolded 
itself gradually like a book before her 
perceptive feminine vision, this conception 
broadened into bolder, clearer definition. 
Hitherto she had been fiercely maintaining 
her inalienable right to whatever chance of 
happiness offered itself in her path. Now 
she felt humbled, unworthy, a lesser thing 
than he, and her abasement brought her a 
sweet, pure happiness. At first she had 
loved him, she scarce knew why, because he 
was he, because her heart had leapt towards 
him. But now the self-chastening brought 
into being a higher love, tender and worship- 
ping, such as she had dreamed over in a 
lonely woman’s wistful reveries. She lost 
the sense of rivalry with Felicia, strove in 


1 1 8 A Shidy in Shadows. 

unobtrusive ways to win back her friendship. 
But Felicia, sweet and effusive to others, to 
Katherine remained unapproachable. 

At last a great womanly pity arose in 
Katherine’s heart. The victory that she 
was ever becoming more conscious of gain- 
ing awakened all her generous impulses and 
tendernesses. Her love for Raine had grown 
too beautiful a thing to allow of unworthy 
thrills of triumph. 

For the rest, it was a happy sunlit time. 
The past faded into dimness. She lived 
from day to day blinded to all but the glow- 
ing radiance4&f her love. 

Raine met her one day going with a basket 
on her arm up the streets of the old town by 
the cathedral. He had fallen into the habit 
of joining her with involuntary unceremoni- 
ousness when she was alone, and it did not 
occur to her as anything but natural that 
he should join her now and walk by her side. 
At the door of the basement where Jean- 
Marie and his wife dwelt, she paused. 

“ This is the end of my journey. My old 
people live here.” 

“ I am quite envious of them,” said Raine. 


Katherines Hour. 


119 

He had scarcely spoken, when the old 
woman hobbled across the road from one 
of the opposite houses, and came up to 
Katherine with smiling welcome in the 
wrinkles of her old, lined face. 

She had not expected madame so soon 
after her last visit. It was Jean-Marie who 
was going to be happy. Would Madame 
enter ? And Monsieur ? Was he the brother 
of Madame ? 

Katherine explained, with a bright flush 
on either cheek and a quick little glance of 
embarrassment at Kaine, w h^ laughed an dr 
added Jiis word of explanation.^ He was a 
great friend of Madame’s. She had often 
spoken to him of Jean-Marie. 

The old woman looked at him, the eternal 
feminine in her not dulled by years, and liked 
his smiling face. 

If I could dare to ask Monsieur if he 

% 

would condescend to enter with Madame — ? ’’ 

He sought a permissive glance from 
Katherine, and accepted the invitation. 

I did not mean — began Katherine in a 
low voice as they were following the old 
woman down the dark stairs. 


r 


120 


A Study in Shadows. 


will delight me/’ replied Raine. 

Besides, I shall envy them no longer.” 

After a few moments her embarrassment 
wore off, as she saw the old paralytic’s first 
Swiss shyness melt away under Raine’s 
charm. It was Raine’s way, as the old 
professor had said once to Felicia, to get 
behind externals and to set himself in sym- 
pathy with all whom he met. And Katherine, 
though slie had not heard this formulated, 
felt the truth unconsciously. He talked as 
if he had known Jean- Marie from infanc3^ 
To listen to him one Avould have thought 
it w^as the simplest thing in the world to 
entertain an ignorant old Swiss peasant. 
Katherine had never loved him so much as 
she did that hour. 

She was full of the sense of it when they 
were in the street again — of his tenderness, 
simplicity, human kindness. 

How they adore you ! ” he said sud- 
denly. 

The words and tone startled her. The 
aspect she herself had presented was the 
last thing in her thoughts. The tribute, 
coming from him in the midst of her silent 




Katherine s Hour. 


I2I 


adoration of him himself, brought swiftly 
into play a range of complex feelings and 
the tears to her eyes. He could not help 
noticing their moisture. 

‘‘ What a tender heart you have ! ’’ he said 
in his kind way, falling into inevitable error. 

It is silly of me,” she replied with a 
bright smile. 

She could not undeceive him. Often a 
woman by reason of her sex has to receive 
what she knows is not her due. But she 
compensates the eternal justice of things by 
giving up more of her truest self to the man. 
A few moments later, however, on their 
homeward walk, she tried to be conscientious. 

I cannot bear you to praise me — as you 
do sometimes.” 

Why ? ” 

A man, even the most sympathetic, is 
seldom satisfied unless he has reasons for 
everything. Katherine, in spite of her 
seriousness, smiled at the masculine direct- 
ness. She replied somewhat earnestly, — 
Because I do not deserve it in the first 
place, and in the second, it means so much 
more, coming from you.” 




122 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ I said that those old folks adore you, 
and that you are tender-hearted,” he an- 
swered conclusively ; “ and both facts are 
true, and it would be a bad day for anyone 
but yourself who gainsaid them.” 


CHAPTER YIIL 

A POOR LITTLE TRAGEDY. 

Of the development of human phenomena, 
two truisms may be stated. First, a man 
can seldom gauge its progress, the self of 
to-day differing so infinitely little from the 
self of yesterday. And secondly, the climax 
is seldom reacted by a man’s own initiative. 
He seems blindly and unconsciously to de- 
pend upon that law’ of averages which assigns 
an indefinite number of external contino:en- 
cies to act upon and to complete any given 
process.” 

Raine had jotted down this among some 
rough notes for a series of lectures in Meta- 
physics he was preparing, when his father’s 
voice broke a silence that had lasted nearly 
an hour. 

I am reading that letter you wrote to 

99 


me. 


124 A Study in Shadows. 

Which letter ? ” asked Eaine. 

As the old man did not reply at first, but 
continued reading the letter which he held 
out before him, Eaine closed his note-book, 
and went round behind his father’s chair, 
and looked over his shoulder. 

Oh, that one. You must have thought 
me idiotic. I half fancy I did it to puzzle 
you.” 

I wasn’t puzzled, my dear boy. 1 
guessed. And does the magnet still at- 
tract ? ” 

It was the first time be had referred to 
the matter. His voice was a little husky as 
he asked the question — it seemed to be a 
libertv that he was taking with Eaine. He 
looked up at him deprecatinglj, touching the 
hand that was on his shoulder. 

“ Don’t think me an inquisitive old man,” 
he added, smiling to meet the affectionate • 
look on his son’s face. 

“ Yes, I am attracted — very much,” said 
Raine. “ More than I had conceived pos- 
sible.” 

“ I am so glad — she too is drawn to you, 
Raine.” 


A Poor Little Tragedy. 1 25 

“ I ttiink so too — sometimes. At others 
she baffles me.” 

“ You would like to know for certain ? ” 

“ Of course,” said Eaine with a laugh. 
There seemed a humorous side to the 
discussion. The loved old face wore an 
expression of such concern. 

“ Then, Eaine — if you really love her — 1 
can tell you — ^he has given you her heart, 
my son. I bad it from her own lips.” 

The laugh died away from Eaine’s eyes. 
With a quick movement, he came from be- 
hind his father and stood facing him, his 
brows knitted. 

“ What do you mean, father ? ” he asked 
very eaimestly. 

“Felicia — she is only waiting, Eaine.” 

“ Felicia ! ” 

“ Yes. Who else ? ” 

Eaine passed his hand through his hair 
and walked to and fro about the room, 
his hands dug deep in his pockets. The old 
man followed him with his eyes, anxiously, 
not comprehending. 

Suddenly Eaine stopped short before him. 

“ Father, I haven’t been a brute. I 


I2'6 a Study in Shadows. 

haven’t trifled with her. I never suspected 
it. I liked her for her own sake, because 
she is a bright, likeable girl — and I am fond 
of her for your sake. But 1 have never, to 
my knowledge, led her to suppose — believe 
me.” 

And then the old man saw his plans for 
Raine’s future fall in desolation round him 
like a house of cards. 

“ I don’t understand,” he said rather 
piteously, “ if she is the attraction — ” 

“ It is not little Felicia.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the old man, with the bitter 
pang of disappointment. 

He rested his head on his hand, dejectedly. 

“ I had set my heart upon it. That was 
why, the first day you came, I spoke of her 
coming back to Oxford with us. Poor little 
girl ! Heaven knows what wilj happen to her, 
when I tell her.” 

“ Tell her ! You mustn’t do that, dad. 
She must learn it for herself. It will be best 
fer her. I will be very careful — very careful 
— she will see — and her pride will come to 
her help. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll go 
away — for an indefinite time. Rogers and 


A Poor Little Tragedy, 


127 


three men are climbing in Switzerland. I 
shall pack up my tilings and go and join 
them to-morrow ; I have a list of their 
dates.’’ 

He searched for it among the papers in his 
pocket-book; 

Chamonix ! Their being so close will be 
a good excuse. When I come back — it will 
only be for a short time — this break will 
make it easier to modify my attitude.” 

Let us think what would be best,” said 
the professor with an old man’s greater 
slowness of decision. 

I have made up my mind,” said Raine. 
‘‘ I go to-morrow.” 

Just then a rap was heard at the door, and 
a moment afterwards Felicia appeared, bring- 
ing her daily task of copy. She handed the 
professor the . manuscript — and while he 
looked through it mechanically, she stood like 
a school-girl before her master, with clasped 
hands, waiting pleasurably for the little word 
of praise. 

‘‘ There is going to be a specially gorgeous 
jete on the lake to-night, Mr. Chetwynd,” she 
said brightly, turning to Raine. 


128 


A Shtdy in Shadows. 


“ Won’t it be like the other one ?” 

“ Oh, much more so ! There is a royal 
Duke of somewhere or other staying at the 
National, and the municipality mean to show 
him what they can do. I am so fond of these 
fetes xenetiennes. You’re coming, aren’t you, 
professor ?” 

“ I don’t know, my dear,” replied the old 
man. “ The night air isn’t good for me.” 
Then he added, closing the manuscript, “ It 
is beautifully done. I shall grudge giving it 
to the printers.” 

“ But you’ll get it all back again,” said 
Felicia. “ Send it to me afterwards, and I’ll 
bind it up beautifully with blue ribbon.” 

She gave them each a little nod of farewell 
and tripped lightly out of the room. The 
two men looked at each other, rather sadly. 

‘‘ Oh, Raine— is it too late ? Couldn’t 
you ? ” 

“ No, dad,” said Raine. “ I am afraid 
other things are too serious.” 

Later in the day he opened his note-book 
and his eye fell upon the last fragment he 
had scribbled. He threw it upon his 
dressing-table with an exclamation of im- 


A Poor Little Tragedy, 129 

patience. The personal application of his 
aphorisms was too sudden and obvious to be 
pleasant. 

There was no doubt now in his mind as to 
the face that attracted him to Geneva. It 
had vanished on the first day of his arrival, 
when he had seen Katherine comforting the 
hurt child. He was conscious too that it had 
been Katherine all along, at Oxford, whose 
memory had haunted him, that he had only 
evoked that of Felicia in order to enable him 
to deceive himself. He had practised the 
self-delusion systematically, whenever his 
thoughts had drifted away from the work 
and interests that surrounded him. He had 
made light of the matter, treated it jestingly, 
grown angry when it obtruded itself seriously 
on his thoughts. For he had shrunk, with 
the instinctive fear of a man of strong nature, 
from exposing to the touch a range of feelings 
which had once brought him great sorrow. 
To love meant to bring into play a man’s emo- 
tions, infinitely deeper than those of a boy, 
and subject to far more widely-reaching con- 
sequences. For this reason he had mocked 
at the idea of being in love with Katherine, 




K 


130 


A Study in Shadows. 


had forced himself, since the power that drew 
him to Geneva could not be disregarded, to 
consider Felicia as an equal component, and 
at the time of his light confidence to Mrs. 
Monteith, had almost persuaded himself tliat 
he was indulging in a whimsical holiday 
fancy. 

But he could delude himself no longer. 
From the first meeting he knew that it was 
not the young girl, but the older, deeper- 
natured woman that had stirred him. He 
had felt kindly and grateful to her for his 
father’s sake ; but there his feelings had 
stopped. Whereas, with Katherine, he had 
been drifting, he knew not whither. 
The process of subjective development had 
been brought suddenly to its climax by his 
father’s words. He realized that he loved 
Katherine. 

To fly away from Geneva at this moment 
was particularly unpleasant — necessitating 
almost the rending of his heart-strings. 
But as he had decided, he sent a telegram to 
Bogers at Chamonix, secured a place in the 
next morning’s diligence, and packed his 
Gladstone-bag and knapsack. He was 


A Poor Little Tragedy. 13 1 

sincerely sorry for Felicia. No decent, 
honest man can learn that a girl has given 
him her heart in vain, without a certain 
amount of pain and perplexity. 

And to think that I have been such a 
blind idiot as never even to suspect it ? ” he 
exclaimed with a vicious jerk of the bag- 
strap, which burst it, and thereby occasioned 
a temporary diversion. 

I passed you this afternoon and you did 
not see me,” said Felicia as they were going 
in to dinner. ‘‘ You were in the diligence 
office.” 

Yes,” said Raine, I was engaging a 
seat to Cbarnonix. I am going climbing 
with some Oxford people.” 

“ When do you start ? ” 

‘‘ To-morrow^,” said Raine. I think I 
may be away some weeks.” 

He could not help noticing the look of 
disappointment in her eyes, and the little 
downward droop of her lips. He felt himself 
a brute for telling her so abruptly. However, 
he checked the impulse, which many men, in 
a similar position, have obeyed, out of 
mistake kindness, to add a few consoling 

K 2 


132 


A Sttidy in Shadows. 


words as to his return, and took advantage 
of the general bustle of seat-taking to leave 
her and go to his place at the opposite side of 
the table. 

Many new arrivals had come to the pension 
during the last few days. Colonel Cazet and 
his wife had joined their friends the Por- 
nichons ; several desultory tourists, whose 
names no one knew, made their appearance 
at meal-times, and vanished immediately 
afterwards. When questioned concerning 
them. Mine. Boccard would reply : 

“ Oh, des Americains ! ” as if that explained 
everything. 

In addition to these, Mr. Skeogh, the 
commercial gentleman who had surrendered 
to Frau Schultz’s seductions, had this evening 
introduced a friend who was passing through 
Geneva. By virtue of liis position as visitor 
of a guest, Mme. Boccard placed him at the 
upper end of the table between Fraulein 
Klinkhardt and Mme. Popea, instead of 
giving him a seat at the foot, by herself, 
where new arrivals sat, and whence, by 
the rules of the pension, they worked 
their way upwards, according to seniority. 


A Poor Little Tragedy. 


133 


There were twenty-one guests that night. 
Mme. Boccard turned a red, beaming face 
to them, disguising with smiles the sharp 
directing glances kept ever upon the 
summer waiter and his assistant. The 
air was filled with a polyglot buzz, above 
which could be heard the great voices of the 
old soldiers and the shrill accents of the 
Americans fresh from the discovery of Chil- 
lon. At the head of the table, however, 
where the older house-party were gathered, 
reigned a greater calm. Both Mr. Chetwynd 
and Felicia were silent. Eaine conversed 
in low tones with Katherine, on America, 
where she had lived most of her younger life. 
Slie very rarely alluded to her once adopted 
nationality, preferring to be recognized as an 
Englishwoman, but Eaine was recording his 
impressions of a recent visit to New York, 
and her comments upon bis criticisms were 
necessary. Around them the general topic 
was the feie venetienne that was to take 
place on the lake. To Mr. Skeogh, who had 
never seen one, Frau Schultz gave hyperbolic 
description. Mr. Wanless, a grizzled and 
tanned middle-aged man, with a cordless eye- 


134 


A Study in Shadoxvs. 

glass and a dark straggling moustache, who 
had travelled apparently all over the "world, 
rather pooh-poohed the affair as childish, and, 
in a lull in the talk, was heard describing a 
Nautch-dance to Mme. Popea. 

It seemed commonplace enough, this 
pension dinner-party. Hundreds such were 
at that moment in progress all through 
Switzerland, differing from each other as little 
as the loads of any two consecutive London 
omnibuses on the same route. Yet to more 
than one person it was ever memorable. 

Little M iss Bunter, who sat next to 
Felicia, had grown happier of late. I'lie 
summer had warmed her blood. Also she 
had lately received an eight-page letter from 
Burmah which had brought her much con- 
solation. There was a possibility, it hinted, 
of the marriage taking place in the spring. 
She had already consulted Katherine as to 
the trousseau, and had made cuttings from 
Modern Society of the description of 
fashionable weddings during the past two 
months. Having these hopes within her, 
and one of the new dresses chosen by 
Katherine, without, she looked much fresher 


A Poor Little Tragedy. 


135 


than usual this evening. Her sandy hair 
seemed less lifeless, her complexion less 
sallow. She did not speak much, being 
constitutionally timid. Her opinions were 
such weak, frail things, that she was afraid 
of sending them forth into the rough world. 
But she listened with animated interest to 
the various conversations. Raine’s talk par- 
ticularly interested her. She had a vague 
idea that she was improving her mind. 

It struck me,” Raine was saying, that 
culture in America was chief! v in the hands 

t/ 

of the women — more so even than it is in 
our own strictly business circles. And 
nearly all New York is one great business 
circle.” 

Were you long in the States, sir ? ” 
asked Mr. Skeogh, who had been silent for 
some time. 

Oh no,” said Raine, looking over towards 
him, only a few weeks. My remarks are 
from the merest superficial impressions.” 

It is a fine country,” said Mr. Skeogh. 

Raine acquiesced politely. 

I do not like the country,” said Frau 
Schultz, thus making the topic a fairly 


136 


A Study in Shadows. 

general one. “ There is no family life. 
The women are idle. They are not to my 
taste.” 

“ What a blessing ! ” murmured Katherine 
in a low voice, to which Raine replied by an 
imperceptible smile. But aloud she said : 

“ I don’t think American women are idle. 
They give their wits and not their souls to 
housekeeping. So they order their husbands’ 
dinners and see to the washing of their 
babies just as well as other women ; but 
they think that these are duties that any 
rational creature can perform without letting 
them absorb their whole interests in life.” 

“ A woman’s duty is to be a good house- 
wife,” said Frau Schultz dictatorialiy, in 
her harshest accent. “In Germany it is 

BO.” 

“ But is not the party of progress in 
Germany trying to improve the position of 
women ? ” asked Mr. Wanless with a secur- 
ing grip of his eyeglass. 

“ It cannot be improved,” said Frau 
Schultz. 

“ That is a matter of opinion,” replied 
Mr. Wanless. “When elegant ladies have 


A Poor Little Tragedy, 


m 


Vamen-hcture especially written for them, 
and when peasant women are harnessed to a 
cart by the side of the cow, wliile the 
husband walks behind smoking his cigar — I 
think a little improvement is necessary 
somewhere.” 

He spoke in a clear, authoritative voice, 
commanding attention. 

‘‘ Have yon been in Germany ? ” asked 
Frau Schultz. 

I have been all over the world — travelled 
continuously for twenty years. Somehow 
the position of women has interested me. 
It is an index to the sociology of a 
country.” 

“ Which is the most interesting one you 
know from that point of view ? ” asked old 
Mr. Chetwynd, who had been following the 
conversation. 

Burmah/’ replied Mr. Wanless. It is 
Hae anomaly of the East. Germany could 
learn many lessons from her.” 

Is the position of women very high 
there ? ” asked Miss Bunter, timidly, the 
mention of Burmah having stimulated her 
interest to the pitch of speaking. 


138 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ Oh yes ! ” returned Mr. "Wanless, laugh- 
ing. “ A wife is the grey mare there with a 
vengeance.” 

A faint flush came into Miss Bunter’s 
cheek. 

“ But it does not matter to the English 
people who live there, does it ? ” 

Mr. Wanless assured her, amid the general 
smile, that English people carried their own 
laws and customs with them. Miss Bunter 
relapsed into a confused yet pleased silence. 
The talk continued, became detached and 
desultory again. Miss Bunter no longer 
listened, but nerved herself up to a great 
effort. At last, when a lull came, she 
moistened her lips Avith some wine, and 
leant across the table, catching the traveller’s 
eye. 

“ Have you lived long in Burmah ? ” 

“Yes. I have j ust come from an eighteen- 
montbs’ stay there.” 

“ I wonder if you ever met a Mr. Dotterel 
there ? ” 

“ I know a man of that name,” said Mr. 
Wanless, smiling. “But Burmah is an 
enormous place, you know. My friend is 


A Poor Little Tragedy. 139 


an F. J. Dotterel — Government appoint- 
ment — stationed at Bliamo ! ’’ 

ThaFs him,” cried Miss Bunter, in 
suppressed and ungrammatical excitement. 

How extraordinary you should know him ! 
He is a great friend of mine/’ 

A very good fellow, ” said Mr. Wanless. 
‘^His wife and himself were very kind to 
me.” 

I beg your pardon,” said Miss Bunter. 

His wife ? It can’t be the same — my friend 
is not married.” 

‘^Oh yes he is/' laughed the traveller 
pleasantly. There is' only one F. J. Dotterel 
in the Government service at Bhamo. 
Married out there. Got three or four jolly 
little children.” 

She looked at him for a moment haggardly, 
and grew white to the lips. The loss of blood 
made her face look phiched and death-like. 
She tried to ulter some words, but onl}^ a few 
inarticulate sounds came from her throat. 
There was a moment’s intense silence, every 
one around her knowing what had happened. 
Then she swayed sideways, and Felicia 
caught her in her arms. 


140 A Study in Shadows, 

She had fainted. The table rose in confu- 
sion. Amid a hubbub of voices was heard 
Mme. Popea’s explaining to Mr. "Wanless 
the nature of his indiscretion. 

“ I will carry her to her room,” said Paine, 
lifting her thin body in his arms. “ Come 
and help me,” he added, signing with his 
head to Felicia and Katherine. 

They followed him out and upstairs. He 
laid her down on her bed. 

“You know what to do, don’t you?” he 
said to Katherine, as he left the two with 
the unconscious lady. 

“ Poor thing. It will break her heart,” 
whispered Katherine, as she busied herself 
with the hooks and eyes and laces. 

“ I don’t much believe in the fragility of 
women’s hearts,” said Felicia. 

“ Why do 3^ou say that, Felicia ? ” said 
Katherine gently. “ You know that you 
don’t mean it.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Felicia with a little inflexion 
of superciliousness, “ I generally say what I 
mean.” 

Katherine did not reply, reading her well 
enough by her own general knowledge of 


A Poor Little Tragedy. 141 

human nature. We often contradict our 
own common sense and better impulses, for 
the unprofitable satisfaction of contradicting 
our enemy. 

So when poor Miss Bunter opened her 
eyes and recovered consciousness, feeling 
sick and giddy and cold, and, seizing Felicia’s 
hand, broke into miserable crying and sob- 
bing, Katherine judged it wiser to leave the 
two of them alone together, without any 
further offer to share Felicia’s ministrations. 

When she entered the salon a little later, 
she found most of the party preparing to go 
oat to see the illuminations. The little tra- 
gedy was still being discussed, and Katherine 
was beset by questioners. Little Miss 
Bunter’s love storv had long been common 
property in the pension, as she had told 
it to each of the ladies in the very strictest 
confidence. 

The exodus of the guests began. Mme. 
Popea ran out of the room and quickly re- 
turned to Katherine’s side. 

“ Mademoiselle Graves will not come,” she 
said, buttoning her glove. Could not you 
go and persuade her ? ” 


142 


A Study in Shadows. 


I fear I slioukl be of no use. Mine. 
Popea/’ said Katherine. I will ask Mr. 
Chetwynd.” 

Ah ! Then she will come,” laughed 
Mme. Popea — and she hurried out after the 
Pornichons, who had asked her to accompany 
them. 

Katherine passed by the few remaining 
people, chiefly ladies,- standing about the 
room in hats and wraps, to meet Raine, who 
was just coming in from the balcony, where 
he had been smoking. 

hear that Felicia won’t go to the fHe. 
Don’t you think you could persuade her ? 
It would do her good. She has been look- 
ing forward to it so much.” 

Blit Eaine shook his head and looked 
down at her, tagging his blonde moustache. 
It was an embarrassing request. Katherine 
half divined, and forbore to press the matter. 
She had already somewhat sacrificed her tact 
to her conscience. 

“ But you, yourself? Are you not com- 
insr?” he asked. 

O 

^‘No; I think I’ll stay in. I feel rather 
too sorry for that poor little body.” 


A Poor Little Tragedy. 143 

You had better come. The brightness 
will cheer you.’' 

I don’t think I should care for it,” she 
replied, with her hand to her bosom, finger- 
ing a dark red rose in her dress. 

Suddenly the flower fell from its stalk to 
the ground. She started slightly, from the 
unexpectedness, and, when Raine stooped 
and picked it up, held out her hand for it, 
palm upwards. But he disregarded her 
action and retained the rose. 

Do come ! ” he pleaded. 

Sbe glanced at him, met his eyes. A 
wave of emotion passed through her, seem- 
ing for the moment to lift her off her feet. 
Why should she refuse? She knew per- 
fectly well that she would give her soul to 
go with him through fire and water to the 
ends of the earth. But she dreaded lest he 
should know it. 

Would you really like me to come ? ” 

You know I should.” 

She went to put on her things. Raine 
stepped on to the balcony to wait for her. He 
could see the pale reflection of the illumina- 
tions, and hear the noise of the people, and 


X 


144 Study in' Shadows, 

the faint sound of music broken by the crack- 
ing of a cabman’s whip in the street below. 
For a moment his surroundings seemed to 
him unreal, as they do to a man gliding over 
the edge of a precipice. 

“ I wonder what is going to happen ? ” 
he said to himself. 


i 

k 


V 


r 


CHAPTER IX. 

VARIOUS ELEMENTS HAVE THEIR SAY. 

It was a sultry night. Not a breath of air 
was stirring. They had escaped from the . 
crowd on the quays and were being rowed 
about the lake in a little boat gaily hung 
with Chinese lanterns. The glare fell on 
their faces, confusing their view, and making 
all dark objects around them invisible. Their 
eyes caught nothing but a phantasmagoria 
of coloured lights. The water swarmed with 
them. Scores of similarly illuminated craft 
darted hither and thither, crossed and re- 
crossed each other on all sides, with the 
dazzling effect of myriads of fireflies. All 
around, flxed amid the moving lights, blazed 
the lamps on quays, bridges and jetties. Now 
and then, through a momentary vista, could 
be seen the gas devices on the fronts of the 


L 


146 A Shidy in Shadows. 

great hotels on the Qnai du Mont Blanc. 
S ow and then, too, they neared the looming 
hull of the great steamer, a mass of festoons 
of coloured lamps. The strains of the band 
on board broke through the roar of many 
voices, with a strange effect, and died away 
in tlie general hubbub as the steamer moved 
slowly off. 

“ I am glad I came,” said Katherine. “ It 
was nice of you to think of this boat. It is 
fresher on the water.” 

She was happy ; he was by her side. The 
little canopy of lanterns above their heads 
seemed to draw them together, isolate them 
from the outer world. The lights whirled 
arotind her as in a dream. Eaine too, 
for all his man’s lesser emotional impressi- 
bility, felt a slight exaltation, a contiuuance 
of the strange sense of the unreality of things. 
As the moments passed, this common mood 
grew in intensity. 

They spoke of the incident of the dinner- 
table, but like other things it seemed to lose 
perspective. Meanwhile the old wizened 
boatman, apparently far away in the bows, 


Various Elements have their Say. 147 

rowed stolidly round and round within the 
basin formed by the quays and jetties. 

‘‘ It is a mad story/’ said Katherine. 
Almost fantastic. What object had he ? 
Was he a fiend, or a coward, or what ? ” 
‘‘Both,” said Raine. “ With a soft senti- 
mental heart. A fiend that is half a fool is 
ever the blackest of fiends. He is irre- 
sponsible for his own hell.” 

“ Are all men like that who make life a 
hell for women ? ” 

In a way. Men are blind to the conse- 
quences of their own actions. Apply the 
truism specially. Or else they see only their 
own paths before them. Sometimes men 
seem ‘ a little brood.’ I often wonder how 
women can love them.” 

“Do you? Would you include your- 
self?” 

“Yes. I suppose so.” 

“ Do you think you could ever be cruel to 
a woman ? ” 

“ I could never lie to her, if you mean 
that. The woman who loves me will find 
me straight, however much of an inferior 
brute I might be otherwise.” 

L 2 


/ 

148 A Study in Shadows. 

“ Don’t,” said Katherine. “ You frighten 
me — the suggestion — ” 

“ But you asked me whether I could be 
cruel.” 

“ A woman’s thoughts and speech are 
never so intense as a man’s. You throw a 
lurid light on my words and T shrink from 
them. Forgive me. I know that you could 
be nothing but what was good and true- 
hearted.” 

Raine looked at her. Her face was delicate 
in its strength, very pure in its sadness; 
The dim light by which it was visible 
suggested infinite things beyond that could 
be revealed in a greater brightness. He 
felt Avonderfully drawn to her. 

“ Men have been cruel to you. That is 
why you ask.” 

“ Ah no ! ” she said, turning away her head 
quickly. “ I will never call men cruel. I 
have suffered. Who has not ? The greatest 
suffering — it is the greatest suffering in 
life — that which comes between man and 
woman.” 

“ It is true,” replied Raine musingly. “ As 
it can be the greatest joy. Once I could not 


Various Elements have their Say. 149 

bear to think of it, for the pain. It is 
strange — ” 

“ What is strange ? ” asked Katherine in 
a low voice. 

He was scarcely conscious how he had 
come to strike the chord of his own life. It 
seemed natural at the moment. 

“ It is strange how like a dream it all 
appears now ; as if another than I — a bosom 
friend, whose secrets I shared — had gone 
through it.” 

She put her hand lightly on his arm, and 
he felt the touch to his heart. 

“Would you care for me to tell you? I 
should like to. It would seem a "way of 
laying a ghost peacefully and reverently. It 
has never passed out of me yet — not even to 
my father.” 

“ Tell me,” murmured Katherine. 

“ Both are dead — twelve years ago.” 

“ Both ? ” 

“ Yes ; mother and child. I was little else 
than a boy — an undergraduate. She was 
little else than a girl — yet she had been 
married — then deserted by her husband and 
utterly alone and friendless when I met her 


150 A Study in Shadows. 

— in London. She was a dresser at a theatre 
— educated though, and refined far above 
her class. At first I helped her — then loved 
her — we couldn’t marry — she offered — at 
first I refused. But then — well, you can end 
it. We loved each other dearly. If she 
had lived, I shoiild have been true to her till 
this day — I should have married her, for she 
would soon have become a widow. When 
the child was born, I was one-and-twenty — 
she nineteen. We were wildly, ecstatically 
happy. Three months afterwards the child 
caught diphtheria — she caught it too from 
the baby — first the little one died — then 
the mother died in my arms. I seemed to 
have lived all my life before I had entered 
upon it. It was a heavy burthen for 
a lad.” 

“ And since ? ” asked Katherine gently. - 

“ I have shrunk morbidly from risking 
such torture a second time.” 

“ Yours is a nature to love altogether if it 
loves at all.” 

“I reverence love too highly to treat it 
lightly,” he said. “ Tell me,” he added, 
“ do you think my punishment came upon 


Various Elements have their Say. 1 5 1 

me rightly? There are those that would. 
Are you one ? ” 

God fortjid,” she replied in a low voice. 
God forbid that I of all creatures should 
dare to judge others.’’ 

The earnestness in her tone startled him. 
He caught a side-view of her face. It wore 
the same look of sadness as on the night 
they had seen ‘^Denise” together in the 
winter. She had suffered. A great yearning 
pity for her rose in his heart. 

It is well that the past can be the past,” 
he said. We live, and gather to ourselves 
fresh personalities. A little gradual change, 
a little daily hardening or softening, weaken- 
ing or strengthening — and at the end of a 
few years we are different entities. Things 
become memories — reflections without life. 
That was why I said it was strange. Kow all 
that time is only a vague memory, and it 
mingles with the far-off memory" of my 
mother, who died when I was a tiny boy. 
And now I have put it to rest for ever — for 
it was a ghost until I knew you. Do you 
believe in idle fancies ? ” 

I live in a great many,” said Katherine. 


152 


A Study in Shadows, 


“I fancied — that by telling you, I should 
be free to give myself up to a new, strange, 
wonderful world that I saw ready to open 
for me.” 

“ Could I ever say ‘ I thank you’ for telling 
me ? ” replied Katherine. “ I take all that 
you have said to my heart.” 

There was a long silence. He put his 
hand down by her side and it rested upon 
hers. ” She made a movement to withdraw it, 
but his touch lightened into a clasp. She 
allowed it to remain, surrendering herself to 
the happiness. Each felt the subtle com- 
munion of spirit too precious to be broken 
by speech. The lantern-hung boats passed 
backwards and forwards. One party, just as 
they came abreast, struck up an attempt at a 
jodeling song : “ Juch hol-dio hol-di-ai-do 
hol-di-a hol-dioJ” 

The suddenness startled them. Katherine 
drew away her hand hastily as ho looked 
round. 

‘‘ Why did you ? ” he asked. 

“ Because — because the little dream-time 
came to an end.” 

“ Why should it ? ” 


Various Elements have their Say. 153 


It is the nature of dreams.” 

Why, then, should it be a dream ? ” 
Because it can never be a reality.” 

It can. If you cared.” 

The words were low, scarcely audible, but 
they stirred tlie woman’s soul to its depths. 
She remained for a moment spellbound, 
gazing away from him, down at the fantas- 
tically flecked water. A j^earning, passionate 
desire shook her. One glance, one touch, 
one little murmured word, and she would 
unlock the flood-gates of a love that her 
whole being cried aloud for. Often she had 
given herself up to the tremulous joy of 
anticipation. Now the moment had come. 
It depended upon her to give a sign. But she 
could not. She dared not. A sign would 
make it all a reality in sober fact. She shrank 
from it now that she was brought face to 
face with it. With a woman’s instinct she 
sought to temporize. But what could she 
say ? If she cared ! To deny was beyond 
her strength. Meanwhile the pause was 
growing embarrassing. She felt that his 
eyes were fixed upon her — that he was await- 
ing an answer. 


154 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ What I have said has pained you.” 

She turned her head to reply desperately, 
she scarce knew how. But the first syllable 
died upon her lips. A flash of lightning 
quivered across the space, bringing into 
view for a vivid, dazzling second the semi- 
circle of the quay, the old clustering city, 
the Saleves ; and almost simultaneously a 
terrific peal of thunder broke above their 
heads. Katherine was not a nervous 
woman, but the flash and the peal were so 
sudden, that she instinctively gave a little 
cry and grasped Raine’s arm. Before the 
rumble had died away, great drops of rain 
fell. In another moment it came down as 
from a water-spout. 

The evening had been close, but they had 
not thought of a storm. Katherine had 
only a light wrap to put over her thin dress. 
The gay lanterns swinging above their heads 
and before their eyes — now they were a 
lightless mass of wet paper — had prevented 
them from noticing the gradual clouding 
over of the sky. They were in the middle 
of the basin. Amid the roar of the rain and 
the shouts from the boats around them, they 


Various Elements have their Say. 155 

could hear the dull noise of the crowd on 
the quays scampering away to shelter. 

My poor child, you will . get wet 
through,’’ cried Raiiie, put this round 
you. Let us get in as' quickly as we 
can.” 

He pulled off his rough tweed coat and 
threw it over her shoulders; and then, 
before either Katherine or the old boatman 
were aware of his intentions, he had dis- 
possessed the latter of his place, taken the 
sculls, and was pulling for shore with a 
vigour that the little boat had never before 
felt in its rowlocks. 

Drenched, blinded, bewildered by the 
avalanche of water, Katherine felt a 
triumphal glow of happiness. The heavens 
seemed to have come to her rescue, to have 
given her another chance of life. She was 
pleased too at having his coat about her, at 
having heard the rough, protecting tender- 
ness in his voice. It pleassd her to feel 
herself borne along by his strong arms. 
She could just distinguish his outline in 
the pitch darkness, and the shimmer of 
his white shirt-sleeves. There was nothing 


156 A Study in Shadows. 

particularly heroic in his action, but it was 
supremely that of a man, strong, prompt, 
and helpful. Another flash as vivid as the 
first showed him a smile on her face. He 
shouted a cheery word as the swift darkness 
fell again, and rowed on vigorously, delighted 
at the transient vision. 

In a few moments they were by the Grand 
Quai, amidst a confusion of boats hurriedly 
disgorging their loads. Experienced in 
many a river crush, Raine skilfully brought 
his boat to the landing-place, paid the old 
boatman, and assisted Katherine to land. 
It was still pouring violently. When they 
reached the top of the quay, Raine paused 
for a moment to take his bearings. 

“It is ridiculous to think of a cab or 
shelter,” he said, “ We must dash home as 
quickly as we can. Come along.” 

He passed her arm through his hurriedly, 
and set off at a smart pace. 

“ Don’t take off that,” he cried, preventing 
an attempt on her part to remove the coat 
from her shoulders. 

“ But you — oh, I can’t ! ” 

You must,” he said, authoritatively. 


Various Etements^have their Say. 157 


And Katherine found it sweet to yield to 
his will. 

They walked rapidly homewards, speaking 
very little, owing to the exigencies of the 
situation, but feeling very close to one 
another. Even the touch of grotesqueness 
in this unconventional flight through the 
rain made them laugh happily together, as 
they stumbled along in their haste. 

It is very sweet of you not to mind,’’ 
he said. 

She gave his arm a little pressure for 
reply, and laughed light-heartedly. 

At the porte-cochere of the pension, 
Katherine paused before mounting the stairs, 
to take breath and to restore Raine his coat. 

The gas-lamp by the door threw its light 
upon them and for the first time they saw 
each other clearly. They were drenched to 
the skin. A simultaneous exclamation rose 
to the lips of each. 

‘M earnestly hope you have taken no 
hurt,” added Raine in a tone of concern. 

‘‘ Oh no ! One never takes hurt when 
one is happy.” 

The glow on her wet cheeks and the light 


158 


A Study in Shadows, 


in her eyes confirmed the statement as far 
as the happiness went. 

They entered at the door ; he gave her 
his hand to help her up the stairs. 

“ When do you start to-morrow ? ” 

“ At seven.” 

“ Must you go ? '* 

“ Yes. Thei’e seems to be no help for it. 
But I shall come back. You know that. I 
hate going away from you.” 

They stopped at the end of the little 
corridor where her room was situated. He 
detained the parting hand she gave him. 

“Tell me. Were you pained at what I 
said — the last thing, in the boat ? ” 

“Pained? No.” 

“ Then you do care r ” 

She was silent. But she lifted her eyes 
to him and he read there what she could not 
speak. With a sudden impulse he threw his 
arm around her, dripping as she was, and 
kissed her. Then she broke away and fled 
to her room. 

Raine’s first act on reaching his room was 
to summon a servant and send Katherine a 
glass of cherry-brandy, which he poured ■ 


Various Elements have their Say. 159 

from a flask lie had brought with him for 
mountaineering chances, together with a 
scribbled line : Drink this, at once.” 

Then he changed his dripping garments for 
comfortable flannels, and went in search of 
his father. But the old man, though he 
smiled at Raine’s account of his adventure, 
was still depressed. 

‘ It will be wretched without you,” he said. 

Yet you must go away for a time. Make 
it as short as you can, Ilaine. 1 shall think 
in the meantime oE a way out of the diffi- 
culty.” 

‘^Couldn’t you take Felicia somewhere?” 
suggested Raine. To Lucerne. You might 
start a few days before my return. I must 
come back for a little while. Afterwards, I 
might join you, when you have parted from 
Felicia, and go back to Oxford with you.” 

“ I will see,” replied the old man a little 
wearily. 

“ Poor old dad,” said Paine. 

“ Man is ever poor,” said liis father. “ He 
will never learn the lesson of life. Even 
with one foot in the grave he plants the 
other upon the ladder of illusion.” 


CHAPTER X. 


A TOUCH OP NATURE. 

Raine sat smoking lais pipe for a long time 
before going to bed. The events of the day 
had crowded so fast upon one another, that 
be had scarcely had time to estimate tlieir 
relative importance. His mind was not 
yet perfectly balanced. The first kiss of a 
new love disturbs fine equilibrium. 

It was characteristic of him that he at 
once put aside all temptations to postpone 
his departure. He could not meet Katherine 
again, except as a declared lover. To parade 
such relations before Felicia’s eyes, seemed 
to his simple experience in such things a 
cynical cruelty. Yet he devoutly hoped that 
fate would decide and the destinies decree 
that he should return as quickly as possible. 
There was a peculiar irritation in the 


A Touch of Nahire, i6i 

position in which he found himself. The 
sense of it grew in intensity as things 
assumed justor proportions. A.fter all, what 
had been said ? He was going away with 
everything unasked, everything unspoken. 
A question, a glance, a kiss ; sufficient for 
the glowing moment — but painfully inade- 
quate for after-hours of longing. With 
almost grotesque irritation he broke into an 
exclamation of anger against the storm that 
had interrupted the outburst of his gathering 
passion. But for a saving sense of humour 
he would have felt humiliated' by the remem- 
brance of the sudden check. He could not 
help chafing under the feeling of incomplete- 
ness. 

Unlike the woman, who had taken the kiss 
to her heart of hearts and nursed it there 
wilfully forgetful, for the first delicious after- 
hours, of aught else in the wide world, Kaine 
gnawed his spirit with impatient regret 
that circumstances had granted him no moi’e. 
If the fulness of revelation were to come on 
the morrow, it would have been different ; but 
be was going away — without seeing her — for 
days and days — leaving her with this un- 


1 62 A Shidy in Shadows. 

satisfying expression of his love. For he 
loved her, deeply, truly, with the strength of 
his simple, manly nature. She had roused in 
him every instinct of pitying protection, her 
delicate grace had captivated his senses, her 
wide experience of life, sad in its wisdom, had 
harmonized subtly with his robust masculine 
faith. Without being intellectual, she had 
the fine judgments of a cultured, thoughtful 
woman. On deep questions of ethics they 
met on common ground ; could view the 
world together, and be stirred by the same 
sympathies. Her companionship had grown 
intensely dear to him. The sadness that 
seemed to overspread her life had appealed 
to his chivalry, compelled him irresistibly to 
her side. The sweet womanliness of her 
nature had been gradually revealed to him 
by a thousand little acts, each one weaving 
its charm about him. Jean-Marie, too, and 
his wife had drawn him within the area of 
their worship. 

Hitherto her sadness had been attributed 
in his mind to no definite cause. She was a 
widow, had passed through much suffering, 
was intensely lonely, uncared for. For him 


A Touch of Nature. 163 

that had been enough. He had scarcely 
thought of speculating further. But to- 
night the remembrance of agitated tones in 
her voice forced him to a surmise. He 
pondered over her self-a>ccusing cry when he 
had submitted to her judgment the ethical 
side of the poor tragedy of his early man- 
hood. 

“ God forbid that I of all creatures should 
dare to judge others.” 

Women do not utter such words lightly, 
least of all women like Katherine. He fitted 
them as a key-stone into the grej^ vague 
arch of the past. His face grew stern and 
thoughtful as he lay back in Ins seat, and 
passed his hand heavily through his hair, 
contemplating the apparition. For a time it 
loomed as a shadow between himself and her. 
And then — was it the ghost that he had 
laid that evening, come back as the eternal 
spirit of love, or was it merely his strong 
human faith ? A light seemed to pour down 
from above, and Katherine emerged serene 
and radiant from the mist, which spread 
behind her thin and formless. 

He sprang to his feet, rubbed his eyes and 

M 2 


1 64 A Study in Shadows. 

laughed to himself. His love for her thrilled 
buoyantly through him. He loved her for 
what she had shown herself to be ; a woman 
fair and brave and womanly — and one who 
loved him ; that he had seen in her eyes as 
he had kissed her. 

At half-past six on the following morning, 
the porter came to convey his luggage to 
the diligence, which starts from the Grand 
Quai, and a little later he himself left the 
house. He did so very wistfully. His 
quixotic flight caused him a greater pang 
even than he had anticipated. In the street 
he could not forbear giving a regretful glance 
upwards at the pension. ' To his delight, 
Katherine was standing on the little balcony 
outside her window. 

The bright morning sunlight fell upon her. 
She was wearing a cream-coloured wrapper ; 
a pale blue scarf about her head half covered 
her fair hair. Seen through the clear, pure 
atmosphere, she looked the incarnation of 
the morning. Her face flushed red all over, 
as she met the gladness in his eyes. She 
had risen earlj", unable to sleep ; had dressed 
herself with elaborate care, searching ear- 


A Totich of Nature. 165 

nestly in her glass for the accusing lines of 
her thirty years. She would send a note, 
she had thought, by the waiter who would 
bring up his coffee, saying that she was 
astir and could see him in the salon before he 
started. But she had only got as far as biting 
the end of a pencil before a blank sheet of 
paper. All her preparations and fluttering 
of heart had ended in her going on to the 
balcony, to see him walk twenty yards before 
he turned the corner of the street. And 
there she had wished tremulously against 
her will that he would look up as he crossed 
the road. He had done so, was standing 
below her. She blushed like a young girl. 
But he only stood for a moment. With an 
eager sign he motioned her inwards, and 
ran back to the house. 

They met outside the salon door. Ho 
rushed up to her, a little breathless from his 
race up the stairs, and drew her with him . 
into the room. 

You — up at this hour — ^just to see me 
start ! — are you an angel ? ’’ 

He Avas rapturously incoherent. Her act 
seemed to him to be truly angelic. In the early 


i66 A Study in Shadows. 

stages of love a man rarely takes the woman’s 
passionate cravings into account. Acts that 
proceed .from desires as self-centred as his 
own he puts down to pure, selfless gracious- 
ness towards him. And perhaps as a 
general principle this is just as well. The 
woman loves the tribute; and one of her 
fairest virtues is none the less fair through 
being won under false pretences. 

Katherine looked up at him with strange 
shyness. He had the power of evoking that 
which was sweetest and most womanly in 
her. 

“ You see that I do care — greatly.” 

His arms were about her before the sound- 
wave had passed his ear. A flood of burning 
words burst impatiently from his lips. She 
leant back her head, in the joy of surrender. 

“ I have loved you from the first — since 
last Christmas. You came to me as nothing 
else has ever come to me — brave and strong 
above all men.” 

The words fell from her in a murmur 
strung to passion-pitch. One such radiant 
moment eclipsed the waste of grey years. 
She would have sold her soul for it. 


A Touch of Nature. 


167 


She disengaged herself gently. 

“ I must not make you late.” 

“ You will write to me ?” 

“ If you write.” 

“Every hour, beloved, till I comeback.” 

“ Oh, let it be soon.” 

“ How great is your trust in me. Another 
than you might have reproached me for 
going — at such a time.” 

She looked at him, her eyes and lips one 
smile. 

“ I can guess the reason. I honour you 
for it. I would not keep you. But oh ! it 
will be long till I see you again.” 

“ And to me. I am not one of those to 
whom waiting is easy. But I take away all, 
aill yourself with me.” 

“ All.” 

“ Good-bye — Katherine,” he whispered. 
“ You have never called me by my name. 
Let me hear it from you.” 

“ Eaine ! ” 

Again their lips met. In another moment 
he was speeding to catch the diligence. She 
went on to the balcony, kissed both hands to 
him as he turned the corner. Then she went 


i68 A Shtdy in Shadows. 

slowly back up tlie stairs, bolding by the 
baud-rail, and shaken with joy and fear. 

When Raine arrived at Chamonix, instead 
of finding Rogers and his party at the Hotel 
Royale as he had expected, he found a tele- 
gram awaiting him. 

“ Accident to Bryce. Party broken up. 
Letter to follow.” 

On inquiring of the manager, Raine learned 
that his telegram of the day before had been 
forwarded on to Rogers to Courmayeur, 
whence the latter had written to the hotel 
countermandinof the rooms he had ordered. 

O 

And by the next post came a letter giving 
details of the accident. Bryce had slipped 
down a crevasse and injured himself, perhaps 
fatally. All thoughts of further climbing 
were abandoned. Raine was somewhat 
shocked at the news. He did not know 
Bryce, who was a Cambridge friend of the 
junior Dean’s, but he was sincerely concerned 
at the tragic end of the expedition. 

The point,' however, that touched him 
practically was that he found himself 
stranded at Chamonix. He eagerly scanned 
the long table-d’hote in the hope of dis- 


A Touch of' Nature. 169 

covering a familiar face. But not one was 
visible. He was alone in that crowded 
resort which only exists as a rallying point 
for excursionists and climbers. The sole 
distraction the place afforded were glaciers 
which he derived little interest in contem- 
plating, and peaks which he had not the 
remotest desire to scale. It would have 
been different, if he had met a cheerful 
party. He had bargained with himself for 
their society. It was part of the contract. 
Now that he was forced to depend on the 
Alps alone for companionship, he felt 
aggrieved, and began to dislike them cor- 
dially. The notion, however, of going on 
solitary mountaineering excursions entirely 
against his will, appealed to his sense of 
humour. 

The relations between us are simply 
ridiculous,” he said, apostrophizing the 
mighty snow-clad pile. 

But as there was no help for it, he pre- 
pared, like Mahomet, to go the mountain 
cheerfully. So he secured a guide to the 
Tete Noire for the following day. 

That done, he gave himself up entirely to 


170 A Study in Shadows. 

the new sweetness that had come into his 
life. 

The few moments of the morning’s meeting 
had lit up the day. Much still remained un- 
spoken, but there was no longer the irritating 
sense of incompleteness that had filled him 
the night before. Yet all the deeper, 
subtler pulsations of his love craved im- 
mediate expression. He sat in his hotel 
bedroom far into the night, writing her his 
first letter. 

For the next few days he occupied him- 
self strenuously with the sights of Chamonix. 
He joined a party over the Mer de Grlace, 
took one day over the Grands Mulets, 
ascended the Aiguille Verte, and then rested 
with a feeling of well-earned repose. His 
great event of the day was the Geneva post. 
He had received two letters from Katherine. 
One she had written a few hours after his 
departure — he put it to his lips. The second, 
for which he waited with a lover’s impatience, 
was in ansvmr to the first he had written. 
At first he read it with a slight shade of 
disappointment. It seemed to lack the 
spontaneity of the other. But Raine, by 



) OH— up a! this hou)'-ji(st to src 

an ami ci ? ” 

o 


me start ! 


.Ire yon 

✓ 




A Touch of Nature. 171 

nature chivalrous towards women, and hold- 
ing them as creatures with emotions more 
delicately balanced than men and subject to 
a thousand undreamed-of shynesses, quickly 
assigned to such causes the restraint he had 
noticed, and, reading in, as it were a touch 
of passion into every touch of tenderness, 
satisfied the longings of his heart. There 
were letters too from his father. The first 
stated that he had mooted the plan to 
Felicia of the little jaunt to Lucerne, and that 
she had acceded to it joyfully, but in the 
second the old man complained of sudden 
poorliness. From the third Raine learned 
that he was in bed with a bad cold, and that 
Lucerne had been postponed indefinitely. 

The news depressed him slightly. No 
letter from Katherine had accompanied it, to 
cheer him. On the evening of his day of rest, 
therefore, he was less in love with Chamonix 
than ever. By way of compensation the 
weather was bright and clear, and the sunny 
seat under the firs in the hotel gardens, 
whither he had retired with his travelling 
edition of Tristram Shandy,’’ was warm and 
reposeful. He was speculating over the 


A Study in Shadows. 


172 

Rabelaisian humour of Mr. Shandy’s domes- 
tic concerns, and enjoying the incongruity 
between it and the towering masses of rock 
and glacier and snow on the other side of the 
valley, when a man sauntered up the gravelled 
path, stopped before him, and asked for a 
light. 

Raine looked up, and recognizing the new- 
comer as one with whom he had exchanged 
casual remarks during the last few days, 
readily complied with his request. 

He was a thin, wiry man of about seven 
and thirty, with a clean-shaven face which 
bore a curious expression of miiigled sim- 
plicity and shrewdness. His thin lips seemed 
to smile at the deception practised by his 
guileless pale-blue eyes. Unlike Raine, who 
wore the Englishman’s Norfolk jacket, 
knickerbockers and heavy heather-mixture 
stockings, he was attired in grey summer 
trousers and a black jacket. A soft felt hat 
of the Tyrolese shape, a pair of field-glasses 
slung over his shoulder, a great gold solitaire 
fastening his shirt-cuff, which show^ed con- 
spicuously as he lit his cigar, suggested the 
nationality that was confirmed by his speech. 


A Touch of Nature. 


173 


He was an American, his name was Hock- 
master, and he was visiting Europe for the 
first time. With these facts he had already 
acquainted Raiiie on a previous occasion. 

When the American had returned the 
match-box, he sat down on the bench by 
Raine’s side. 

.. jf 

you want to be alone, you’ve only got 
to tell me and Til evaporate,” he said cheer- 
fully. But I’ve been getting somewhat 
lonesome in this valley. Nature’s a capital 
thing in mixed society, but when you have 
got her all to yourself, she is a thundering 
dull companion.” 

The remark so exactly echoed Raine’s 
sentiments of the past few days that he burst 
out laiigliing, closed “ Tristram Shandj,” 
and prepared to gossip sympathetically with 
his new acquaintance. 

“ You are not ecstatic over all this,” he 
said with a wave of his hand. 

“ Only within reasonable limits,” replied 
the American. “ It’s very pretty, and when 
you see it for the first time it fetches you in 
the pit of your stomach. Some folks say it 
touches the soul, but I don’t take much stock 


174 


A Study in Shadows, 


of souls anyway. 'Well, then you get over it, 
like sea-sickness, and it doesn’t fetch you any 
more. But I’m glad I’ve seen it. That is 
what I came over for.” 

“ To see the Alps ? ” 

“Well, no. IN ot exactly. But to sample 
'Europe generally. To get a bird’s-eye view 
of all the salient features. It is very in- 
teresting. America is a fine country, but 
it’s not the microcosm of the uni-verse.” 

“ But you have scenery much more 
grandiose than this, in the Californian 
Sierras,” said Raine. 

“We may. I don’t know. And I hope I 
shall never know, for mountains and glaciers 
are not my strong point. But if they were 
fifty times as sublime, American niountains 
could not have the glamour and sentiment 
that brings thousands of my countrymen to 
gape at Mount Blanc. Other mountains may 
do business on a larger scale, but the Alps is 
an old-established firm. They have the 
connection, and people stick to them. 
Mount Blanc, too, is a sort of IVestminister 
Abbey to Americans, and the Eigi a Strat- 
ford-on-Avon. They like to feel they have 


A Touch of Nature. 


175 


a share in it. I don’t say these are my views 
personally. I am afraid I take my glamour 
neat and get it over quickly.” 

As Eaine had nothing particular to reply 
to this pliilosophy, and as he saw that Mr. 
Hockmaster would be more entertaining as a 
talker than as a listener, he uttered a polite 
commonplace by way of antistrophe, and the 
American again took up his parable. He 
spoke well and fluently. Behind the in- 
genuousness of his remarks there generally 
lurked a touch of incisiveness, which 
stimulated his listener’s interest. His 
manners were those of a gentleman. Eaine 
began to like him. 

What part of England do you come 
from?” he asked at length, 

‘‘ Oxford.” 

The University ? ” 

Yes.” 

I haven’t been there yet. I’ve been 
through Cambridge. But Oxford I am 
keeping until I get back. Your English 
institutions interest me more than anything 
in Europe. It’s a cumbrous old bit of 
machinery, and won’t stand comparison with 


A Study in Shadows. 


176 

ours; but we seem to live for the sake 
of our institutions, whereas you let yours 
rip and moke use of them when they serve 
your purpose.’’ 

He lit another cigar from the stump of 
the old one, and continued, — 

‘‘I come from Chicagfo. It is a gfo-ahead 
place, and, if it wore near the sea, could 
become the capital of the world, when 
Universal Federation sets in. I love it, as 
perhaps you love Oxford. You have litera- 
ture — literce humaniores ” you call it at 
Oxfoid — in your blood, and I have business 
in mine. I am a speculator in a small way. 
I have just floated a company — got it sldp- 
shape before I sailed — for a patent process 
of making white lead. Now, I am as keen 
upon that white lead as if it were a woman. 
It has kept me awake at nights, and danced 
before my eyes during the day. I have 
dreamed of every ship flying American 
colours painted with my white lead. To 
make a pile out of it was quite secondary to 
the poetry of it. Now I bet you don’t see 
any poetry at all in a patent white lead 
process — in making the land hum with it.” 


A To 7 ich of Nature, 177 

What about the neat glamour ? ’’ asked 
Raine, smiling. 

Ah ! There’s a difference. I have got 
this all out of my own liead. It is a bit of 
me. Whereas the Alps aren’t — ” He stared 
at them innocently — Not a little bit.” 

The sound of the gong for the mid-day 
meal reached them, resonant through the 
rarefied air. They rose and walked together 
towards the hotel. 

I guess I’ll come and sit next to you, 
if you have no objection,” said Mr. Hock- 
master. 

Do,” replied Raine cordially, I shall be 
delighted.” 

O 

They lunched together, and in the after- 
noon walked to the Boissons and back, a 
pleasant three hours’ excursion. Raine did 
not wish to absent himself from the hotel 
for a longer time, being anxious concern- 
ing posts. But no letters came for him, 
save a couple of business communications 
from Oxford. He was troubled about his 
father’s health, and longing for a line from 
Katherine. He began to reflect that perhaps, 
after all, he had come on a fool’s errand to 


178 


A Study in Shadows, 


Cliamonix. Poor little Felicia would liave 
to be disillusioned sooner or later. If tbe 
Lucerne plan had fallen through, owing to 
his father’s illness, there was no chance of 
sparing her the ultimate revelation of the 
love between himself and Katherine. He 
could not remain at Chamonix indefinitelv : 

t/ ^ 

to take up other quarters at Geneva would 
only set the whole pension speculating ; and 
Raiue knew full well that the speculation of 
a whole pension is perilous to the most 
Calphurnian reputation. 

He decided, however, to be guided by the 
next day’s letters. 


CHAPTER XL 


**THE 'WOMAN WHO DEUBERATES.” 

“ Thou slialt love tty neighbour as thy- 
self,” is an excellent maxim. Its only fault 
is its capacity of a too wide extension. If 
a saving clause had been added with refer- 
ence to its non-application to one’s neigh- 
bour’s business, it would have been perfect. 
But, perhaps, after all, in its faultiness lies 
its excellence, for counsels of perfection 
are of no great use to mankind, which, in 
its ethical systems, loves disguised loopholes 
for original sin. 

However little the inmates of the Pension 
Boccard may have observed the maxim 
itself, they obeyed its extension to a nicety. 
Not onlv because thev were women. Some- 
times communities of men have been known 
to gossip about each other’s affairs. It is 

N 2 


I So A Study in Shadows. 

but human to speculate upon events around 
us, and speculation, anticipating Raine’s fear, 
was rife at the Pension Boccard. 

In the first place, the dramatic ending of 
poor Miss Bunter’s romance kept wits and 
tongues exercised for days. And secondly, 
certain facts had become common property 
which pointed to interesting relations 
between Mrs. Stapleton and Raine Chetwynd. 
The chief of these facts was the early morn- 
ing interview. The summer waiter reported 
it to the cook, who informed Madame Boccard, 
who mentioned it in confidence to Madame 
Popea, who in her satirical way described it 
to Fraulein Klinkhardt. From the latter it • 
passed to Frau Schultz, who barbed it care- 
fully in accordance with her own spite 
against Katherine, and sent it round on its 
travels again. In this form it reached 
Felicia. ~ 

The girl found herself just in the humour 
of bitterness to accept it. After the heartless, 
systematic deception that had been practised 
on Miss Bunter for fifteen years, it seemed 
possible to credit humanity with anything. 
Kot that she felt any resentment against 


The Woman who Deliberates." 


i8i 


it 


Raine Clietwynd on her own score. Sbe 
was bound to confess to herself, with tears 
of self-scorn, that he had never treated her 
with anj^thing but the most brotherly frank- 
ness and courtesy. But in her dislike of 
Katherine, she certainly credited him with 
a commonplace amour, and thereby set him 
down lower in her estimation. Then her 
pride came, speciously to her rescue, but 
really, after the way of pride in women’s 
hearts, to embitter the struggle that was 
taking place wuthin her. One bright, pure 
feeling, however, rose above the turmoil — an 
intense pity for the poor frail- creature out of 
whom had been crushed the hope of life. To 
have stood by as witness and comforter 
during that agony of despair had been one 
of those lurid experiences that set in motion 
the springs of infinitely reaching sym- 
pathies. 

-V 

When old Mr. Chetwynd proposed the trip 
to Lucerne she sprang at it eagerly. It 
would be a relief to leave the pension and 
its associations. For the whole of the day 
she busied herself feverishly with prepara- 
tions, It was a keen disappointment when 


i 82 


A Study in Shadows. 


the old man fell ill and the trip had to be in- 
definitely postponed. She longed passionately 
for October, when she was to join her uncle 
and aunt in Bermuda. Meanwhile she 
copied out manuscript assiduously, nursed 
the old man as far as he would allow her, and 
devoted the rest of her time to whatever 
gaieties were afoot in the pension. 

Katherine lived in a fool’s paradise after 
Raine had gone, for a couple of days. His 
kiss was on her lips, the pressure of his arms 
lingered round her, the vibrating words rang 
in her ear. If unbidden thoughts came, she 
put them aside with a passionately rebellious 
will. The long morning passed like a dream. 
The day and evening in an intoxicated sense 
of happiness. In the night she slept and 
waked, alternately, heedless of the hours. 
She had won his love. It had been given 
to her in full, overflowing measure. It 
flooded her presence with sunlight. She 
surrendered herself to the delicious joy that 
it was to feel, instead of to think. 

On the evening of the second day, however, 
came Raine’s letter. She sat by her window, 
reading it with a beating heart. At times 


“ The Woman who Deliberates” 183 

the words swam before her. Until then she 
had not realized the wholeness, the simple 
nobility of his love. To her it was more 
than a love-letter. It was the revelation of 
a strong, high soul that was given her, to 
companion and illuminate the rest of her 
days upon earth. She, who in her self- 
abasement before him, felt unworthy to kiss 
the hem of his raiment, saw herself revered, 
worshipped, filling a holy of holies in his 
heart. She was to be his wife. 

She read the letter through twice. Then 
a great fear chilled her. Its premonitions 
had come that evening on the lake, just 
before the thunder broke, and through all 
her after-intoxication it had loomed threaten- 
ingly. Only her will had staved it off. Now 
it held her in its grip. 

His wife. The words stared her in the 
face, repeated over and over again with every 
surrounding of passion, tenderness, and 
devotion. She grew cold. A lump rose in 
her throat. She walked across the room, 
poured herself out a glass of water, and sat 
down again. The dream, the illusion, the 
ioy, all was over. A great pain was in her 


184 A Study in Shadozvs. 

eyes as she gazed sightlessly straight in front 
of her. 

As she gazed, a temptation crept insidi- 
ously into her heart, relaxed and soothed 
for a moment her tense nerves. Why should 
she tell him that which she knew his fine 
nature would never ask ? All her future to 
all eternity was his. What mattered the 
past ? 

Her eyes fell upon his letter on her lap, 
caught a few chance phrases. Then a 
shudder passed through her like a wave of 
self-contempt and revulsion, and, leaning 
forward, she buried her face in her hands and 
cried. 

He was too noble to be deceived — to be 
entrapped as by a common adventuress. The 
thought scorched her. Silence would be 
metal too base to repay the pure gold of his 
love. A million times sooner speak and lose 
him than keep him with a He. All that was 
pure and true and womanly in her revolted 
at the temptation. 

For a long time she remained with bowed 
head, her thoughts whirling round the means 
whereby she was to deal the death-blow at 


The Woman who Deliberates^ 185 

her happiness. The moments passed quickly, 
and the shadows gathered as the afternoon 
began to melt into evening. A message 
from Mme. Boccard, asking her whether she 
was coming down to dinner, was the first 
thing that made her conscious of the flight of 
time. She sent down word that she was 
poorly. A plate of soup brought up to her 
would be all that she required. Then she fell 
back into her despairing thoughts. The 
cry wrung from the soul of Denise hummed 
in her ears until it became a meaningless 
burthen. Since that night in Januarv when 
she had seen the play w'ith Raine, she had 
morbidly applied that cry to herself, — 

Je siiis de celles qidon aime^ mais qidon 
rdepoiise pasT 

A faint ray of hope shot across the dark- 
ness. He had told her his own story. To 
him it was a sacred memory. The girl that 
he had loved, the mother of his child, was in 
his eyes the purest of women. Would not 
that mitigate the judgment he would have to 
pass on her ? She clung to the hope revealed, 
as she lost grip of herself. He would not 
despise her. He would still love her. She 


i86 


A Study in Shadows. 


would be to him wbat that other had been. 
Her thoughts for a while grew hysterical. 

The effort she was forced to make when the ' 
servant entered with her meal, and the 
physical strength given her by the warm 
soup, restored calm and order in her mind. 
She read Raine’s letter through once more. 
It inspired her with sad, despairing courage. 
She became for the time the Katherine she 
had been so long, hopeless, resigned, 
fatalistic. Before she crept broken and 
exhausted into bed, she had written him a 
long calm letter telling him all. She did not 
spare herself, hiding behind sophistries, 
neither did she blacken herself like a remorse- 
ful Magdalen. She wrote it with her heart’s 
blood, at the dictates of her highest self. 
Only once perhaps in a lifetime is the power 
given to human beings to lay thus bare their 
souls as tliey appear before the eyes of the 
high gods. It was a higher Katherine than 
she wot of, that had written that letter. 

But in the morning, the human woman 
yearning dumbly for happiness beheld it, 
addressed, stamped, ready for post, and her 
heart was ice within her. She stood for a 


‘‘ The Woman who Deliberates^ 187 

moment holding it in her hand, irresolute 
whether to break the seal and read it over 
again. Perhaps, she weakly thought, some- 
thing in it might be better expressed. Her 
finger mechanically sought the flap corner of 
the envelope, and she tore it slowly. Then 
she went back to bed with the letter. 
Nothing could be altered. She would re- 
address it and despatch it that day. 

Whilst dressing she paused at her reflec- 
tion in the glass, with a feminine catch at 
the heart. She looked pale, old, faded, she 
thought ; faint lines were around the corners 
of her eyes ; her features seemed pinched. 
She shivered slightly — hurried foolishly over 
her hair, so that she could be spared the sight 
of her face as soon as possible. 

After all,’’ she said to herself, bitterly, 
what does it matter ? When that letter 
has gone, who in the world v> ill care whether 
you look old or young ? ” 

Life seemed to end for her from the moment 
the letter would fall from her hands into the 
letter-box. She kept it by her all day, unable 
to cut herself adrift. The small extra effort 
required to address a fresh envelope just 


1 88 A Study in Shadows. 

raised the task above her strensrth. Once 

O 

during the day she flung herself on the bed 
in a fit of sobbing. She could not send it. 
It would spoil his trip. She would wait till 
he returned, till she had seen his eye light up 
once more as he looked at her, and heard, for 
one last time, the throb in his voice that she 
was never to hear again. Just one more 
hour of happiness. Then she would give him 
the letter, stay by him as he read it, as a 
penance for her present pusillanimity. Feel- 
ing miserably guilty, yet glad of the respite, 
she wrote him the second letter that he had 
received. The one that she was to have sent 
she carried about with her in her pocket, 
until the outside grew soiled and dogs-eared. 

They were not happy days. But she 
moved about the pension outwardly calm 
and serene, to all appearances her own self. 
The feeling of self-reproach for her cowardice 
wore off. She resigned herself to her lot. 
One sight of his face — and then the end of 
all things. She knew, with the knowledge 
of herself given by years of solitude and 
self-repression, that she would not falter 
in her second resolution. 


*' The Woman who Deliberates^ 1 89 

So centred, however, were her thoughts 
in the tragic side of her relations with Raine 
that she gave no heed to the possibility of 
gossip. None reached her ears. Her long 
sustained attitude of reserve, a superiority 
of personality, a certain dignity of manner 
and conduct, had won for her the respect, 
if not the love, of the pension. Even Frau 
Schultz, who hated her, found it impossible 
to utter the spiteful innuendo that trembled 
on her lips. But Mme. Popea, who was the 
chartered libertine of the pension, by reason 
of her good-nature and unblushing liberty 
of speech, summoned up courage one day to 
tread upon the ice. 

“ Mon Dieu,” she said, as if by way of 
invoking the deity’s aid in her venture, “ it 
is getting dull again. I long to see Mr. Chet- 
wynd back. 

“He makes himself missed,” replied 
Katherine calmly, continuing her sewing. 

Mme. Popea had come into her room with 
the ostensible purpose of borrowing a stiletto. 
It was one of her ways to stock her work- 
basket with loans. 

“ If the dear professor grows worse, he 


190 


A Study in Shadows. 


will return soon, I suppose. They are like 
women to each other, those two — good ones, 
in tlie vie de famille of novels. I hear the 
professor is much worse to-day.” 

“ Who told you ? ” 

“ Miss Graves. She is nursing him. 
What a charming girl ! Her devotion to him 
is touching. It would be quite a romance 
if she married Monsieur Eaine. He is so 
handsome.” 

Katherine regarded the plump, irrespon- 
sible lady with placid gravity. 

“You seem to take a romantic interest in 
them, Madame Popea.” 

“ Mon Hieu, yes. Anything that concerns 
love is interesting, especially the idyllic. But 
you, Madame, would you be surprised if on 
his return they were betrothed ? ” 

“ II ne faut jamais s'eionner de rienj* 
quoted Katherine, smiling imperturbably. 

“ I once thought he bad a tendresse 
for Madame,” ventured Mrne. Popea archly. 

“ Oh, Madame Popea,” laughed Katherine. 
“ You know what men are — and we women 
ought never to tell each other our impres- 
sions. If I told you the flattering remarks I 


‘‘ The Woman who Deliheratesr 191 

have heard about you this last fortnight, 
j^our head would be turned.” 

Ah, who has spoken of me ? 

Katherine rose, took out a bonnet from 
a_ drawer and somewliat ostentatiously un- 
rolled a veil, while she returned a laughing 
answer. 

‘‘ I am too old not to have learned discre- 
tion. It is my one vice.” 

And Mme. Popea, seeing that Katherine 
was not to be surprised into any admission, 
lingered a moment idly, and then took her 
departure. Katherine, who read through Mme. 
Popea, smiled to herself somewhat sadly. 
But her visitor’s announcement regarding the 
old professor gave her subject for reflection. 
If his father grew worse, Eaine would have 
to return at once. Fora moment she half 
wished he would delay his coming. Her 
heart throbbed painfully in anticipation of 
what lay before her. 

The announcement was true. The old 
man had taken a severe chill. The doctor 
had just spoken rather alarmingly to Felicia. 
She determined that Eaine should be 
summoned. 


192 


A Study in Shadows. 


“You must let me send a telegram to 
Chamonix,” she said, standing by the bedside, 
while the old man drank his tisane. “ It 
would cheer you to see him, wouldn’t it ? ” 

The old man shook his head. 

“ Not yet.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ It would be such a pity. He is enjoying 
himself.” 

“ I should think he would not be sorry to 
come back,” said Felicia. 

An unwonted sub*acidity in her tone 
surprised him. He paused, with the cup at 
his lips, his eyes luminous. Her glance fell 
beneath his, and she coloured. 

“ I don’t think he went away to enjoy him- 
self,” she said, giving expression to vague 
conjectures that had been taking shape in her 
mind the last few days. “ Besides, his friends 
have left him in the lurch — not their fault — 
unhappily — but still he is alone. He would 
be glad to come back if you sent for him.” 

The old man was perplexed. He was 
also weakened by his attack of cold. 

“Do you think that I sent him away, 
Felicia ? ” he asked. 


“ The Woman who Deliberates T 193 

Felicia was feminine enough to perceive his 
admission. She was sure of her guess now. 
Katherine was at the bottom of the matter. 
The proceedings, however, struck her as 
particularly futile. As they were, actually, 
on the real grounds. She took the empty 
cup from his hands, smoothed his pillow 
deftly, and as he laid his head back, she bent 
over him and whispered, — 

“ lie went away to please you — and he will 
return to please you. Let me telegraph to 
him.” 

“ But you — my dear child — how could you 
bear — ? ” 

“I?” asked Felicia in surprise. “What 
have I to do with it ? ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Chetwynd ! ” she added after a 
moment’s silence. “ You must not remember 
any foolish things I told you once — I think 
I must have been a child then. I am 
ashamed of them now. I have grown older” 
— she struggled bravely — “ and I have got 
over those silly feelings. I would not wish 
to be anything more than friends — ever — so it 
would make no difference to me, if he were 
here — except as a friend.” 


0 


194 Study in Shadows. 

The old man reached out his thin, hand, 
took hers, and laid it against his cheek. 

“ Then there was no need at all of his going 
away, since you knew ? ” 

Felicia gave a little involuntary cry, and 
twitched her hand, as the revelation hurst 
upon her. The blood flooded her cheeks and 
sang in her ears. The former shame was 
nothing to this new one. 

. “ He went away because he saw that I 
cared for him ? ” she asked chokingly. 

“ My poor little darling,” said the old man 
tenderly, “ we did it all for the best.” 

She stood by him in silence for a long 
time, while he petted her hand. At last 
she gathered strength. 

“ Tell him,” she said, “ that it was all a 
mistake — that he acted nobly and gener- 
ously and delicately — but that I smiled when 
I heard it. Tell him that I smiled, won’t 
you, dear professor? See, I am smiling — • 
quite gaily, like the Felicia you spoil. And 
now ” — she withdrew her hand gently — “ I 
am going to telegraph to him. He and I 
together will soon bring you round again — 
but I alone am not sufficient.” 


“ The Woman who Deliberates'.' 195 

Slie administered a few feminine touclies 
to the things on the table beside him, and 
went upon her self-imposed errand. 

I should like you to return as quickly as 
possible. 

“ Chetwtnd.” 

She composed the wording of the telegram 
on her way to the office. It kept her from 
thinking of other things. 

“ There,” she said to herself as she wrote. 
“ That will not alarm him.” 

Meanwhile the invalid was sorely puzzled. 

‘‘ I have made a mess of it from beginning 
to end,” he murmured wearily. “ And yet 
I don’t think it can be dotage yet awhile. 
Let me reason it all out.” 

His eyes closed. He had put the argu- 
ment into a syllogism in Barbara^ when his 
brain refused to act, and he fell asleep. 


CHAPTER XII. 


ELECTEICITY IN THE AIR. 

The waiter who brought Felicia’s telegram 
into the smoking-room found Raine walking 
up and down, pipe in mouth, in a state of 
caged irritation. A fine, penetrating rain 
was falling outside, the wet dribbled down 
the windows, the air was impregnated with 
mist, and great rolls of fog hid the moun- 
tains. The guides had prophesied a clearing 
up of the weather at midday, but it was 
half-past eleven, and the prospect was 
growing drearier every minute. Hockmaster 
was yawning over a cigar and a battered 
copy of the Louisville Guardian which 
some compatriot had bequeathed to the 
hotel. 

Raine seized the telegram eagerly, read it. 


Electricity in the Air. 


197 


crumpled it into his pocket in some excite- 
ment, and turned to the waiter. 

“ There is a diligence to Clus'es — when 
does it start ? ” 

“At 12.15, Monsieur.” 

“ And the train to Geneva ? ” 

“At 5.50.” 

“ Good. Secure me a seat in the diligence, 
and have my bill made out.” 

The waiter bowed and departed. 

“ I am sorry to break our engagement 
to-day, Hockmaster,” said Eaine to the 
American, who had been watching the effect 
of the telegram with some curiosity, “ but 
I must start for Geneva at once.” 

“ I like that,” replied Hockmaster ; “ it’s 
slick. Nothing like making up your mind 
in a minute. It’s the way to do business. 
I guess I’ll come too.” 

“ You’ll have a disgusting drive,” said 
Raine, viewing the proposal with less than 
his usual cordiality. 

“ That’s so,” retorted the other im- 
perturbably, “ I wasn’t expecting the sun 
to shine just because I choose to travel. I 
am a modest man.” 


198 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ Well, hurry up,” said Raine, seeing that 
the American was decided. “ Perhaps you’re 
wise in getting out of this.” 

“ I should have done so a couple of days 
ago, if it had not been for you. You seem 
to have a sort of way of pushing the lone- 
someness off people’s shoulders.” 

There was an ingenuous frankness, an 
artless simplicity in the man’s tone, that 
touched a soft spot in E-aine’s nature. 

“ That’s de\'ilish good of you,” he replied, 
with an Englishman’s awkwardness of 
acknowledgment. “ You have done me a 
good turn too. Ccme along.” 

In spite of Hockmaster’s special efforts 
towards entertainment, the drive to Cluses 
was particularly dreary. The rain never 
ceased falling, the damp hung thick upon 
leaves and branches, and clustered like wool 
among the pine stems. The mountains 
loomed vague and indistinct, fading away into 
mist in the middle-distance. The Arve, as the 
road approached it, seethed below, a muddy 
torrent. The desolate district beyond St. 
Martin heaved like an Aceldama of mud 
and detritus oozing through the fog. 


Electricity in the Air. 


199 


Besides external ^depression, certain 
anxieties lay on Raine’s mind. His father’s 
health was never very strong. A dangerous 
illness was to be dreaded. His deep affec- 
tion for his father magnified his fears. 
There was Katherine, too. His heart 
yearned towards her. He closed his eyes to 
the . hopeless landscape, and evoked, her 
picture as she stood in pale saffron and 
sapphire and a dash of pale gold, the morn- 
ing’s colours, in the morning sunlight. But 
why had she left him so long without news 
of her ? A lover’s question, which he sought 
to answer lover-wise. 

Cluses at last, the little watchmakers’ 
town ; an hour’s wait for the train. They 
went into a cafe and sat down. After a 
while Hockmaster rose, went up to an 
old plate-glass mirror on one side of the 
room, smoothed his thin sandy hair with his 
fingers, arranged his cravat, and then re- 
turned. With the exception of two elderly 
townsmen playing at dominoes in the corner, 
while the host sat looking on in his shirt- 
sleeves, they were the only customers. 
They conversed in desultory fashion on the 


200 A Study in Shadows. 

rain, the journey, the forlorn aspect of the 
place. 

“ If we had a town with an industry like 
this one in America,” said Hockmaster, 
after his second jpetlt verve from the carafe 
in front of him, “we should hitch it on to 
Wall Street and make a go-ahead city of it in 
a fortnight, and manufacture timepieces for 
half the universe.” 

“ That would be rather rough on the 
universe,” said Raine idly. “ American 
watches — ” 

“ The very tip-topest articles in the 
world ! ” interrupted Hockmaster warmly. 
“ Just look at this ! ” 

He drew from his pocket a magnificent 
gold watch, opened all its cases rapidly, and 
displayed the works before Raine’s eyes. 

“ There ! See w'hether that can be beaten 
in Europe. Made, every bit of it, in Chicago. 
Tuat watch cost me 450 dollars. It did 
that.” 

Raine admired the watch, mollified the 
owner, who drank another glass of fine 
champagne on the strength of his country’s 
reputation. Then with an inconsequence 


Electricity in the Air. 


201 


that was one of the quaint features of his 
conversation : 

“ Mr. Ohetwjnd,” he said, lighting a fresh 
cigar, “ I am about tired to death of these 
gilded saloons in continental hotels. Imita- 
tion palaces are not in my line. I should like 
something homier. I was thinking, if you 
could recommend me a snug sort of boarding- 
house in Geneva, it would be very good of 
you.” 

“ Why not come to the one I am staying 
at ? ” said Raine good-naturedly. “ There is 
a very companionable set of people there.” 

“ Right,” replied Hockmaster. “ That’s 
real kind of you. When you come to 
Chicago, you track straight for Joseph K. 
Hockmaster. You’ll find gratitude.” 

“ My dear fellow ! ” laughed Raine depre- 
catingly. 

“ No,” said the other in his serious way. “ 1 
repeat, it’s real kind. Most of your country- 
men would have shunted me off to another 
establishment. I think I tire folks by talking. 
I am always afraid. That’s why I tell you 
to mention when you grow weary of conversa- 
tion. It won’t offend me. It’s as natural 


202 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


for me to talk as it is for a slug to leave 
his slime behind him. I think I’m chock 
full of small ideas and they overflow in a 
liquid kind of way. Now big ideas are 
solider and roll out more slowly — like 
yours.” 

And he poiired himself out the last glass 
of fine champagne that remained in the 
decanter. 

They reached the pension at half-past 
seven. Mine. Boccard appeared at Baine’s 
summons, wreathed in smiles, welcomed 
Hockmaster gracioiusly and assigned him a 
room. Dinner had just begun, she had put 
it back half an hour, in compliment to Mr. 
Ohetwynd. It was charming of him to have 
sent her a private telegram. Everyone was 
well ; the professor had taken a turn for the 
better during the day. 

Baine went straight up to his father, and, 
to his intense relief, found his fears of a 
dangerous illness to be almost groundless. 

“ And Felicia ? ” he asked, after the first 
afl^ectionate questionings. 

“ Well,” replied the old man — “ very bonny. 
Do you know, Baine, I think we may have 


ELctricity in the Air. 


203 


made a mistake. It has been all my fault. 
It would be the greatest kindness to forget — 
and to forgive your meddling old father.” 

Haine laughed in his kind way, reassuring 
the old man. 

It was not I that sent for you,” continued 
the latter. It was Felicia. There was no 
longer any reason for you to stop away — and 
she insisted. Girls’ hearts are mysterious 
books. Don’t search into hers, Raine. 
Forget it — seek your happiness where it is 
truest, my son — and then it will be mine.” 

Raine did not press the subject. He was . 
somewhat puzzled, but he gathered that she 
had spoken and that silence would be the 
more delicate part. He postponed further 
consideration of the matter ; for which he may 
be forgiven, as the longing for Katherine 
was tugging at his heart-strings. Besides, 
he was honestly very hungry, and dinner 
was in progress. 

After a hurried toilet he went down to the 
dining-room. The first sound that struck 
his ear, as he entered, was the pop of a cham- 
pagne cork and the voice of Hockmaster, who 
was sitting at the lower end, with his back 


204 


A Study in Shadows. 


to the door, next to Mme. Boccard. The 
waiter was in the act of filling his glass from 
a large bottle of champagne. The blaze of 
light after the darkness of the corridors 
dazzled Raine, and he paused for a second on 
the threshold, glancing up the table. He 
was greeted by two rows of welcoming faces 
turned towards him and a chorus of kind 
salutations. The old commandant stretched 
up his hand behind his chair and gave a 
vigorous handshake. Mme. Popea looked 
up at him, with a smile over her good- 
natured face, as he passed along. But he 
had eyes only for Katherine. A curious 
little spasm passed throiagh him, as he met 
her glance. It seemed to contain a world of 
fears. She was looking pale and ill. 

Mme. Boccard, in her high-pitched voice, 
directed him to take the professor’s place at 
the head of the table. He found himself 
thus between Felicia and Katherine. Felicia 
greeted him naturally. Katherine gave him a 
cold, trembling hand, and an almost furtive 
look. Evidently something had happened 
during his absence, of whose nature he was 
ignorant. She was no longer the same 


Electricity in the Air. 205 

woman. Mere feminine shyness would not 
account for this suppressed agitation. The 
food on her plate had remained untouched. 
For a moment he lost sense of the scene 
round him. The universe consisted in this 
woman with the ashen face and quickly 
heaving bosom. He bent towards her, — 

“ Are you ill ? ” he whispered, his emotion 
expressing itself by the first chance common- 
place. 

“ No,” she returned hurriedly, in the 
same tone. “ A sudden faintness — my heart, 
perhaps. Don’t notice me — for heaven’s 
sake ! I shall be better soon.” 

Question and answer passed too quickly 
to attract attention. Eaine recovered his 
balance, and turned to Felicia. 

“ My father seems to be getting on nicely, 
thanks to you,” he said kindly. 

“ Oh, not to me. To you. Since your 
reply came to-day.” 

“ I am always so nervous when he gets 
seedy. He is not strong, I have been 
full of direful imaginations all the after- 
noon.” 

Felicia sketched the history of the case, 


2o6 a Study in Shadows. 

touched on the abandoned trip to Lucerne, 
condoled with Eaine on the disappointment at 
not meeting his friends at Chamonix. Slie 
talked bravely, all the pride of her young- 
womanhood up in arms to help her. Perhaps 
she could convince him that he had made 
a mistake. She devoted to the task all her 
energies. Her modesty and intuitive tact 
saved her from over-acting. Her concentra- 
tion, however, prevented her from realizing 
the silent agitation of Katherine. She 
attributed it to embarrassment at meetinar 
Paine after his absence, and felt a little 
thrill of gratified vanity at the invei’sion of 
parts. It used to be Katherine who was 
outwardly at perfect ease and self-contained, 
and herself who was embarrassed and tongue- 
tied. It seemed a little victory in the 
handling of life. 

Paine spoke brightly enough of his 
adventures at Chamonix, including Miss 
Bunter, who was sitting very subdued and 
wan next to Felicia, in the conversation, and 
drew from her an account of a far-off visit to 
the Mer de Glace. But he was feeling low 
at heart. If he addressed a chance remark 


Electricity in the Air. 207 

to Katherine, she greeted it with a forced 
smile, which he felt like a stab. He could see 
from the very fear in her eyes that it was not 
merely sudden faintness. He noticed that 
on trying to lift her wine-glass, which he had 
accidentally refilled too full, her hand shook 
so much that she abandoned the attempt. 
He silently poured some wine into one that 
he had not used and exchanged glasses with 
her. She acknowledged the act with a bow 
of her head and drank the wine somewhat 
feverishly. 

“ !My American friend seems to be enjoying 
himself,” said Raine to Felicia, as Hock- 
master’s somewhat sharply pitched voice was 
heard expounding his artlessly paradoxical 
philosophy of life to those around him. 

Felicia leant forward, so as to catch a 
glimpse of him down the long table. 

“ You must introduce him,” she said. 

“ With pleasure. He will amuse you. I 
think if Bret Harte had known him, he would 
not have asked whether the Caucasian was 
played out. He is as childlike and bland 
as Ah Sin himself. But he is a capital 
fellow.” 


208 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


They paused for a moment to catch what 
he was saying. Raine saw him leaning 
across the table and addressing a new arrival, 
evidently a compatriot. 

“No. I am not a married man. But I 
am fond of ladies’ society. To get along 
without ladies is like washing your hands 
without soap.” 

There was laughter at the remark, which 
was increased by his attempts to convey his 
meaning in French to Mme. Boccard. 

Felicia looked at Raine and laughed too. 
Then out of kindly impulse, by chance catch- 
ing Katherine’s eye, — 

“ Mr. Chetvvynd has brought us quite an 
acquisition, don’t you think so ?” 

Katherine forced a smile and uttered a 
semi-articulate “yes.” Then her eyelids 
closed for a few seconds and quivered, as in 
a nervous attack. This sign of agitation 
could not escape Felicia’s notice. She became 
aware that something was happening. A 
suspicion of a tragic element in the relations 
between the man she loved and the woman 
she hated, flitted in the twilight of her mind. 
The laugh died from her lips, as she looked 


I 


Electricity in the Air. 209 

more keenly at Katherine. She turned her 
glance towards Raine, saw his eyes fix them- 
selves for a moment on Katherine with an 
indescribable expression of pain and longing. 
It was the first time she had seen for herself 
that he loved her. The pang of it gripped 
her heart. But she disregarded it. Again she 
remembered Frau Schultz’s innuendoes and 
tittle-tattle, and involuntarily brought them 
to bear on the present situation. The im- 
pression left on her mind by the tragedy in the 
life of the poor little lady by her side had not 
yet been efface 1. It aided in the suggestion 
of another tragedy in the lives of these two 
others. The strain upon herself had also 
somewhat exalted her system and produced a 
certain nervous sensitiveness. Something 
was happening — something fateful or tragic. 
A' feeling akin to awe came over her young 
mind, and suppressed her own simpler 
girlish fancies. A silence fell upon her, as it 
had fallen upon Raine and Katherine. The 
constraint began to grow painful, the meal 
seemed endless. Hockmaster’s voice in the 
distance began to irritate her nerves. 

At last the dinner was over. There was 

p 


210 


A Study in Shadows. 


the usual scuffling of chairs and frou-frou 
of skirts, as the guests rose. With a common 
impulse Raine and Katherine moved a step 
aside. 

“ Katherine ! ” 

She put one hand up to her bosom, and 
steadied herself with the other on the back 
of her chair. 

“ I am feeling very ill,” she said, thickly. 
“ Don’t think me cruel — I can’t see you to- 
night. To-morrow. I shall be better then. 
You have seen I am not myself — this last 
hour has been martyrdom — forgive me — 
good-night.” 

“ Don’t forget that I love you, dear — let 
that give you strength,” said Raine, in a low 
voice. 

A cry came involuntarly to her lips, wrung 
from her suffering. 

“Ah, don’t!” 

She turned quickly, and followed the 
departing guests. Raine stood bewildered, 
looking with contracted brow at her re- 
ceding form. Hockmaster was standing at 
the door, his dinner napkin over his arm, 
a few yards away from the group of men 


2II 


Electricity in the Air. 

who had remained to smoke. He opened the 
door a little wider for her. But she passed 
out like an automaton, looking neither to 
right nor left. 

The American closed the door, and came 
up to Raine. 

“Say, Chetwynd, can one get a liqueur 
brandy here ? ” 

“ The waiter will be here in a minute for 
orders,” replied Raine. “ How are you 
getting on ? ” 

“ First class. Liveliest meal I’ve had since 
I dined on a burning ship sailing from New 
York to Cuba. Did I ever tell you the 
story ? — My hell ! It was a hot time ! Have 
a cigar.” 

“ No, thanks,” replied Raine. “ I must go 
and fetch my pipe. When I come back you 
can tell me.” 

Deeply troubled about Katherine, he was 
not in the humour for Hockmaster’s stories, 
and he seized eagerly at the excuse for being 
free from him for a time. He went out on 
to the balcony, with the intention of passing 
through to the drawing-room, where he ex- 
pected to find Felicia. An idea had occurred 

p 2 


212 


A Study in Shadows. 


to him which he was anxious to put into 
execution. But after passing two or three 
ladies, he discovered Felicia alone in the 
dimness of the furthest end of the bal- 
cony. 

“ Felicia,” he said, calling her for the first 
time by her Christian name, “ you are a 
dear good girl — you will help me if you 
can. Has Katherine been ill during my 
absence ? ” 

The direct, frank appeal touched the girl 
to the heart. It seemed to raise her with 
one great leap in her own esteem, above all 
the burning shame she had suffered. Raine’s 
vigorous, sympathetic instinct had pierced 
through externals to the innermost of her 
maidenhood. She answered his question 

“ Ko. She has been quite as usual all the 
time. But I think she has looked sadder 
these last few days.” 

“ She has not been looking ill — as at 
dinner to-night ? ” 

“ No. That was sudden.” 

And then with a strange, absolutely new, 
almost delicious sense of the strong man 



Electricity in the Air. 


213 


weakly depending upon her for comfort, she 
said timidly, — 

You mustn’t be unhappy. She may have 
been longing for you to come back — for she 
loves you — and this evening — she is very 
delicate, you know. Sometimes when I am 
wdth her, she seems so fragile — she will be 
better to-morrow — and you will be happy.” 
‘‘Ah ! Thank you, Felicia,” said Raine, 
greatly moved. “ I wish — I wish you 

0 

would let me kiss you for it.” 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

He stooped, and touched her cheek with 
his lips, and then strode away feeling some- 
how stronger and serener. 

And Felicia remained on the balcony deep 
in thought, her girlish, love purified by the 
the brotherly kiss. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE SOILING OF A PAGE. 

It was the large room in the Kursaal 
assigned to the Cercle de Geneve. Of the 
two long green tables, one was deserted and 
in darkness, and the other, brilliantly lighted 
from overhanging green shades, was sur- 
rounded by a fair number of men. Except at 
short intervals between the hands, a decorous 
silence prevailed, broken only by the stereo- 
typed phrases, une carte, sept, neitf, baccara, 
marking the progress of the game. But when 
the hand was over, voices rose, and above them 
was heard the sharp click of the mother-of- 
pearl counters and the chink of gold and 
silver, as the croupier, in the middle of the 
table, opposite the banker, settled losses and 
gains. Then the croupier, — 

“ Quaranie louis dans la hanque, vingt ^ 


The Soiling of a Page. 


215 


chaque tableau. Faites vos jeux, messieurs. 
A clieval ? Bien, monsieur. Bien ne va 
'plus I ” 

And then silence again while the hand 
was being played. 

The company was cosmopolitan; two or 
three elderly Genevese citizens, a sprinkling 
of Germans and Russians, two or three of 
nondescript ' nationality, speaking English, 
French, and German with equal fluency, of 
the swarthy, Israelitish type familiar at Monte 
Carlo and Aiz-les-Bains, and a few English 
and Americans. Among the latter were 
Raine and Hockmaster. The American was 
winning heavily. When the hand had come 
to him, he had “ passed ” seven, nine, and 
twelve times respectively, and a little moun- 
tain of notes, fiches and gold lay before him. 
On a small table by his side was a tumbler 
of brandy and water which he replenished at 
intervals from the customary graduated 
decanter and a carafe of iced water. His 
cheeks were flushed and his eyes unnaturally 
bright, and his speech, when the croupier’s 
spoon deposited his winnings in front of him, 
was somewhat exuberant and excited. 


2I6 


A Study in Shadows. 


Eaine, who had plajed very little, was 
neither winning nor losing. He had ac- 
companied Hockmaster, purely for the sake 
of distraction, intending to while away an 
hour or two before bedtime. The pleasant 
walk along the quays to and from the 
Kursaal had also been an inducement. But 
he had sat there next to Hockmaster for 
several hours, interested in the game and in 
his companion’s astonishing luck. For the 
wholesome-minded person, with a keen sense 
of life and a broad sympathy with its interests, 
there is ever a fascination in watching the 
chances of a gaming table. Fortune seems 
to come down and give a private exhibition 
of her wheel. The great universe seems to 
stand still for a while, and only this 
microcosm to be subjected to its chances. 

At last he grew tired, however, and sug- 
gested to Hockmaster the reasonableness of 
retiring. Besides, the increasing excitement 
of the American led him to reflect, for the 
first time, upon the quantity of drink that 
he had consumed. 

“ I guess I’m going to clear out all these 
boys,” replied Hockmaster. 


The Soiling of a Page. 217 

“ In that case,” said Raine, rising, “ I’m 
going home.” 

The other caught him by his coat. 

“Half an hour more.” 

“No. I have had enough. So have 
you.” 

“ Just the end of this new bank, then.” 

The croupier was crying a new bank — 
putting it up to auction. 

“ La hanque est aux encheres. Gombien la 
hanque ? ” 

“ I’ll wait till you have had just one 
stake,” said Raine, by way of compromise. 

Bids were made for the bank. Ten louis, 
twenty louis, thirty. 

“ Fifty,” cried Hockmaster, suddenly, 
with his elbows on the table. Raine clapped 
him on the shoulder. 

“ That’s not in the bargain.” 

“ A hundred,” cried a fat German at the 
end of the other tableau, who had been 
losing persistently. 

“ You wait if you want to see fun,” said 
flockmaster. “ Two hundred.” 

Murmurs began to arise. Play seldom ran 
so high in the cercle. It was too much. 


2i8 a Study in Shadows. 

■ Assez, assez” growled tte Genevese 
citizens. 

But the rest of the table was athrill with 
excitement. 

“ Two hundred and fifty,” cried the 
German. 

“ Four hundred,” said Hockmaster. 

“ Five ! ” screamed the German. 

“ The gentleman can have that bank,” 
drawled Hockmaster. “ And I’ll go 
banco'' 

Which means that he would play one hand 
against the new banker for the whole amount 
of the bank — £400. 

There was a death-like silence. The 
German, looking pallid and flabby, took his 
seat. The stakes were deposited on the 
table. The croupier placed the fresh packs 
on the rest before the new banker. With 
trembling fingers the German slipped 
the two cards apiece to Hockmaster and 
himself. The American allowed his cards to 
remain in front of him for a moment as he 
looked up at Raiue, who was standing 
behind him, also under the spell of the 
general excitement. 


The Soiling of a Page. 219 

“ If I lose this, I take the next tramoar 
back to Chicago.” 

“ Take up your cards,” grumbled an im- 
patient voice. 

Hockmaster picked them up. They were 
a 6 and a 4, which making 10, according to 
the principles of the game where tens and 
multiples of ten count as nothing, were 
valueless. 

“f/we carte ? ” asked the German. 

“ Yes.” 

“ The card was an ace. The beads of 
perspiration formed on the American’s 
forehead. Only a miracle could save him — 
that of the banker drawing tens. For if the 
banker’s pips totted up, subtracting multi- 
ples of ten, to any number between 2 and 
9, Hockmaster lost. The banker displayed 
his cards. Two queens. The chances were 
now 9 to 4 in the banker’s favour. He drew 
a card slowly from the top. It was the 
ten of diamonds. 

“ Baccara I ” he gasped. 

“One ! ” cried Hockmaster, throwing 
down his cards. 

A hubbub of eager voices arose at the 


220 


A Study in Shadows. 


sensational victory. The German retired 
from the table and left the room without 
saying a word. Hockmaster wiped his 
forehead and stowed away the bank-notes 
and gold in his pockets. 

“ I reckon I’ve had enough too,” he 
exclaimed in a thick, unsteady voice. 
“ Good-night, gentlemen.” 

He rose, stretched himself, laid hold of 
Raine’s arm, and the two went out together. 
As they reached the front steps of the 
Kursaal, they heard the German driving 
away in a cab that had been waiting. 

“ I wish there was another one,” said 
Hockmaster, reeling. 

The fresh night air struck him like an 
electric shock. He lurched heavily against 
Raine, and laughed stupidly. 

“ I guess I’m as drunk as a boiled owl.” 
Raine was surprised, angry and disgusted. 
The modern Englishman sees nothing funny 
in drunkenness. If he had suspected that 
Hockmaster was drinking to the degree of 
intoxication, he would have left the Kursaal 
long before. But the motionlessness of his 
position and the intense excitement of the 


The Soiling of a Page. 221 

game had combined to check temporarily 
the effects of the alcohol. There was no help 
for it, however ; he must give the drunken 
man his arm and convey him home. 

They soon emerged on to the quay. It was 
a superb moonlit night. The lake slumbered 
peacefully below, the bright expanse sweep- 
ing away from the shadows of the town, 
scarcely broken by a ripple. At that hour 
not a soul was stirring. Hockm aster’s 
excited .talk struck with sharp reson- 
ance on the lonely air. As soon as he had 
realized his condition of leg-helplessness, he 
trusted to his companion’s support, and, 
thinking no more about it, talked volubly of 
the game, his winnings, his late adversary’s 
piteous grimace, when the only losing card 
he could draw turned up. Then he broke 
out into loud laughter. 

“ Stop that ! ” cried Eaine, somewhat 
savagely, jerking his arm. 

Hockmaster ceased, looked up at him with 
lack-lustre eye. 

“ I guess I’m drunk. Let’s sit down a 
minute. It’s my legs that don’t realize their 
responsibility.” 


222 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


He pitched sideways in the direction of a 
seat on the quay, dragging Raine a step with 
him. Raine, not sorry to be free of his 
weight for a few moments, agreed to sitdown. 
Perhaps the rest in the fresh air would sober 
him a little ; at least enough to enable him to 
accomplish unaided the remainder of his walk 
home. Having lit his meerschaum, Raine 
gave himself up philosophically to the 
situation. It was just as pleasant and as 
profitable to be sitting there under the stars, 
in front of the magic of the lake, as to 
be fretting through anxious hours in his 
bedroom, longing for the morrow. For a 
time he forgot Hockmaster, who sprawled 
silently by him, his incapable legs stretched 
out compass-wise, and his hands in his 
pockets. His mind hovered around Kathe- 
, rine, lost itself in mingling memories of 
doubts and hopes ; wandered back to Oxford 
and his uncertainties, returned £o Geneva, to 
their first talk in the Jardin Anglais, to stray 
moments when they had drifted into close 
contact, to the glow of the first kiss, and 
finally settled in the gloom that her agitation 
that evening had spread about him. Then, 


The Soihng of a Page. 


223 


with a start, he remembered the American, 
whose silence was alarming. 

Look here. You are not going to 
sleep ! ” 

All right, sonny. Don’t you be alarmed,” 
replied Hockmaster witli drunken gravity. 

I am all right sitting, anyway. IVe been 
fixing up something in my mind, and it’s 
like shaving on board ship in a hurricane. 
Say, you’re my friend, aren’t you ? If you 
thought I was a darned skunk, you’d tell 
me.” 

You have soaked too much brandv, 
my friend,” replied Raine. That doesn’t 
require much ^ fixing up.’ Anyhow, the next 
time you want to go on the drink, please do 
it when I am not there.” 

Quite right,” said Hockmaster, rolling 
his head towards him with a portentous air. 

You’re disgusted at my being drunk — so’m 
I — But thatsh not the question. I felt sort 
of mean, like the chewed end of a cigar, and 
I tried to gargle the feeling away. But it 
wasn’t my fault.” 

Well, never mind,” said Raine, with a 
smile. Don’t do it again.” 


224 A Study in Shadows. 

“ You bet your bottom dollar I don’t. The 
man who puts his head twice into the Divorce 
Court deserves to be shot sitting.” 

Raine was startled. What was the man 
driving at ? 

“ You see, I guess I ought to have married 
her afterwards,” continued Hockmaster. 
“ But those mines I told you of carried me 
down to Mexico. Now when a man’s got a 
blaze at a million of dollars he can’t afford to 
be fooling around after a woman. She can 
wait, but the dollars won’t. That’s what I 
was trying to fix up to tell you — as a real 
friend.” 

“Tell me to-morrow,” said Raine, prepar- 
ing to rise. “ Let us get home now.” 

He had no desire to hear the tipsy details 
of Hockmaster’s past life. But the American 
put detaining hands on his arm and shoulders, 
in familiar confidence. 

“ I want your opinion — I seduced her from 
her husband, and didn’t marry her after the 
divorce, and when I saw her this evening for 
the first time after eight years — ” 

Raine leaped to his feet with a horrible 


surmise. 


The Soiling of a Page. 225 

“ What the devil are you talking about ? 
Whom do you mean?” ' 

“ Yes,” said Hockmaster, nodding in a 
melancholy way. “ I thought I was a mean 
skunk. You are disgusted.” 

Raine seized him by the collar and shook 
him. 

“ Answer my question — which lady do you 
mean ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” said Hockmaster, “ of course. 
You don’t know. Why, the sweetest, prettiest 
woman there, sitting next to you. I guess 
she was upset at seeing me.” . 

He went on talking. But Raine heard no 
more. His brain was in a whirl, a nausea 
was at his heart. His prized meerschaum fell 
from his hand, and, knocking against the seat, 
dropped broken on to the ground; but he 
was unconscious of it. Everything blazed 
before him in a livid light. A horrible repul- 
sion from the inert, ignoble figure sprawl- 
ing beneath him grew into a loathing anger. 
His fingers thrilled to seize the American 
again by the collar and shake the life out of 
him like a rat. 

“ You damned little cad — betraying her to 

Q 


226 A Study in Shadows. 

a stranger — ^you infernal, drunken little 
cad ! ” 

Controlling kis rage witk a great effort, he 
turned, and strode away with set teeth. He 
heard the American’s voice calling him, but 
he went on. 

“ Hallo ! Chetwynd ! ” cried Hockmaster, 
rising with difficulty to his feet. “ Chetwy — 
ynd ! ” 

He staggered forward a couple of paces 
and then fell prone. After a few ineffectual 
efforts to get up, he abandoned the attempt, 
and lay quiescent. 

Eaine walked about fifty yards. He had 
heard the fall. At first it was a grim satis- 
faction to let him lie there — all night if need 
were. But then it struck him with un- 
pleasant suddenness that Hockmaster was 
carrying about his person an immense sum 
of money in notes and gold. To leave him 
to the risk of being robbed and perhaps 
knocked on the head was impossible. He 
conquered his repugnance and turned back. 

“ Get up.” 

“ Eh ? All I’ight. I think I’ll go to 
shleep.” 


The Soiling of a Page. 227 

Raine lifted him to his feet, shook him to 
a degree of soberness, and with one arm 
around him, marched again homewards. 

He loathed the man. To be condemned 
to hug him close to his person set jarring 
every nerve of physical repulsion. Raine 
did not handle him tenderly in that moon- 
light walk. Whilst sitting on the bench, the 
American liad been coherent in his speech, 
but his fall and resignation to slumber on 
the pavement had relaxed the tension of his 
mind, and he grew maudlin and inarticulate. 
Now and then he remonstrated with his 
protector for hurrying him along so fast. 
In fact, Raine, in his passionate desire to 
shake himself free of the incubus, was un- 
consciously exerting his great strength 
almost to carry him bodily. 

In the middle of the bridge, Hockmaster 
laughed softly to himself. 

“ To think I should see her again. Dear 
little Kitty.” 

A horrible wave of disgust swept through 
Raine. He gripped the man viciously. 

“Damn you ! If you mention her name 
again, I’ll pitch you into the lake.” 

Q 2 


228 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ That would be a pity,” murmured the 
American in a panting murmur. “ I can’t 
swim.” 

Raine increased his pace, so that speech 
became for the American a physical im- 
possibility. In the midst of his disgust 
came the memory of the last time he had 
come homewards across that bridge. Then, 
too, he had hurried blindly, anxious to reach 
the pension. The cynical irony of the 
parallel smote him. A clock struck two as 
they reached the corner of the street. 
Hockmaster was limply happy, comfortably 
breathless. Raine propped him against the 
wall as he waited for the concierge to open 
to his ring. The door was soon swung open, 
and Raine dragged the American up the 
dark staircase. When they reached the 
latter’s bedroom, he flung him in uncere- 
moniously and left him to himself. 

Then, when he was alone, rid of the man’s 
body, Raine pieced the story together more 
calmly. It was sickening. His fair pure 
Katherine to have given herself to that little 
drunken cad, to have wrecked her life for 
him — it was sickening. 


The Soiling of a Page. 


229 


There are times in a man’s career when 
the poetry of life seems to be blotted out, 
and its whole story nothing but ignoble 
prose. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE WEAKER SIDE. 

Raine liad judged her very gently. He had 
rightly guessed that she had fallen upon 
the thorns wherewith society strews the 
land outside its own beaten paths. His in- 
sight into the depths of her nature had 
awakened within him a strong man’s jmarn- 
ing pity. In his eyes she was the frail 
tender thing that had been torn and wounded, 
and he had taken to his heart the joy of the 
knowledge that his arms would give her rest 
and peace at the last. 

Although Hockmaster’s revelation had 
jarred through his whole being, he judged 
her gently now. He was honest-souled 
enough to disintegrate aesthetic disgust from 
abiding emotion. He was keenly sensible of 


The Weaker Side. 231 

the agony she had endured at dinner, and he 
suffered with her truly and loyally. But the 
ignobleness attendant on all the conditions 
of Hockmaster’s drunken confidence spread 
itself for the time like a foul curtain over 
finer feelings. He could not help wishing 
that she had told him her story. That the 
consciousness of her position as a divorced 
woman had been the cause of the constraint 

9 

of her letters, he could no longer doubt. 

' That she intended to make all clear to him 
before she definitely pledged herself to him 
as his wife, he was absolutely certain. His 
nature was too loyal for him to suspect 
otherwise. There he read her truly. But 
why had she waited ? It would have made 
his present course of action so much more 
simple, had the spoken confidence between 
them enabled him to take the initiative. 
Now his hands were tied. He could do 
nothing but wait until she made the sign. 
Thus he thought, in calmer, nobler moments. 
But then the common story of seduction, 
with its vulgar stigma of the divorce court, 
and the personality of the reeling, hie* 


232 A Study m Shadows. 

coughing man, sent a shiver through his 
flesh. 

In the morning he spent an hour with 
his father, forgetting for the while his own 
troubles in endeavours to cheer and amuse. 
On his way out, he met Mme. Boccard, who 
greeted him with plaintive volubility. His 
American friend had paid his bill and left 
orders for his bag to be given to the porter 
from the Hotel National. She was sorry 
her establishment had not been to his liking. 
"What did Monsieur Chetwvnd think of the 

V 

dinner ? What had been lacking^ ? And the 
bed ? It was a beautiful bed— as it happened, 
the best in all the pension. Raiue consoled 
her, as best he could, for the American’s 
defection, but in his heart he was grimly 
pleased at this sign of grace in his late 
friend. He had some idea, at least, when 
sober, of common decency. Mme. Boccard 
enquired concernedly after the professor, wms 
delighted to hear th;it he was mending. 

“ Ah, that is good,” she said, “ it would 
not be suitable if too many people were ill. 
The pension would get a bad name. That 


The Weaker Side. 


233 


poor Mme. Stapleton is still suffering this 
morning. It is Mr. Ohetwynd who will be 
sorry.” 

“ Nothing serious ? ” asked Raine, in some 
alarm. 

“Oh no — une cri^^e des nerfs. Que voulez- 
vous ? Les dames sont comme cela.'* 

In spite of this information, however, he 
looked into his room, on his way out, in the 
vague hope of finding a note from Katherine. 
But there was none. He felt himself in a 
cruelly false position. Yet he could do 
nothing. Like a wise man he resolved to 
await events and in the meantime to proceed 
with his usual habits. In accordance there- 
fore with the latter, he walked up the Grand 
Quai and sat down at one of the tables outside 
the Caf4 du Nord, where he had been accus- 
tomed, before his absence at Chamonix, to 
read the Journal de Genhe and the previous 
day’s Figaro. It was pleasant to get back 
to a part of the former way of life, when 
Hockmaster was undreamed of. The retire- 
ment of his late friend from the pension was 
a relief to him. He felt he could breath 


234 


A Study in Shadows. 


more -freely. If lie could be assured that 
Hockrnaster would retire from Geneva as 
well, and vanish into the Unknown whence 
he came, he would have been almost happy. 
He wanted never to set eyes on his face 
again. 

But the particularly undesired invariably 
happens. He was trying to concentrate his 
mind upon the literary supplement of the 
Figaro, when the ingenuous but now detested 
voice fell upon his ear. 

“ I was just on my way to ransack the 
town of Geneva for you.” 

Raine looked up frowningly. Hockrnaster 
Avas standing by his side, sprucely attired, 
clean-shaven, the pink of freshness. His 
shirt cuffs were immaculately conspicuous, he 
. wore patent-leather boots and carried a new 
pair of gloves in his hand. His pale-blue 
eyes looked as innocent as if they had 
never gazed upon liquid stronger than a 
pellucid lake. Immediately after he had 
S|ioken he sat down and airily waved away 
the waiter, who was hovering near for 
orders. 


The Weaker Side. 


235 


“ Did you particularly desire to see me ? ” 
asked Raine, stiffly. 

“ I do. Particularly. I guess I riled you 
considerably last nigbt, and my mind would 
not be easy until I apologized. For anything 
I did last night and anything I said, I apolo- 
gize most humbly. I know,” he added with 
one of his child-like smiles, “that I fell by a 
long chalk from the image of my Maker, and 
I can’t expect you to forgive me all at once — 
but if you were to do it by degrees, beginning 
from now, you would make me feel that I am 
gradually approximating to it again.” 

There was a quaint charm in the manner 
of this astonishing man, to which Raine could 
not help being susceptible, in spite of his 
dislike. Besides, the ordinary conventions of 
life bound him to accept an apology so amply 
tendered. 

“ You did put me to some trouble,” he 
said gravely, “ and for that I most cordially 
accept your excuses. For the rest—” he 
.completed the sense with a gesture. 

But Hockmaster looked pained. 

“ I see, Mr. Ohetwynd. What you can’t 


236 A Study in Shadows, 

do is to pal on to a man who has betrayed a 
woman’s honour.” 

Eaine felt embarrassed. He was aware 
that he had been disingenuous in shifting the 
whole weight of his disgust and anger on to 
that one particular point. The direct appeal 
did not lack manliness, was evidently sincere. 
It stirred within him the sense of justice. He 
tried to realize his attitude towards Hock- 
master in the case of Katherine being merely 
a chance acquaintance. Obviously all the 
complex feelings centering round his love for 
her ought to go for nothing in his judgment 
of Hockmaster. Eaine was an honourable 
man, who hated hypocrisy and prejudice and 
unfair dealing, and the detection of them in 
himself brought with it an irritating sense of 
shame. 

“ I have the privilege of the friendship of 
the lady in question,” he replied to the 
American, “ and therefore felt a personal 
resentment of your confidence last night.” 

“Mr. Ohetvvynd,” returned Hockmaster, 
leaning forward earnestly with his elbows on 
the table, “ there is only one way in which 


The Weaker Side. 


237 


I can make things square, and that is to 
take you into my confidence still further.” 

“ Oh, for God’s sake, man, let us drop the 
subject ! ” 

“ No. For I think you’ll be pleased. 
You are a straight, honourable man, and I 
want to act in a straight, honourable way. 
Do you see that ? ” 

“Perfectly,” said Paine. “But don’t you 
also see that this is a matter that cannot be 
discussed ? A woman’s name cannot be 
bandied about by two men. Come, we will 
let bygones be bygones.” 

He rose, grasping his stick, as if to depart, 
and held out his hand. But the American, 
somewhat to Raine’s astonishment, made a 
deprecating gesture and also rose to his 
feet. 

“ No. Not yet,” he said blandly. “ Not 
before vou feel sure I am doing the straight 
thing. You called me a cad, last night, 
didn’t you ? ” 

“ Yes. But perhaps I was hasty.” 

“ Oh no. I own up. Honest Injun, as we 
say in America. I was a cad. Only, having 


238 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


called your friend a cad, you owe it to him 
to allow him to retrieve his character in your 
eyes.” 

“ Why should you be so anxious to do 
so ? ” asked Raine, struck with the man’s 
earnestness. • 

“ Because I’ve got sort of fond of you,” 
replied the American. “ Will you listen to 
me for two minutes ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Then I’ll tell you that I’m going direct, 
this very minute, to ask that lady to marry 
me.” 

“ To marry you ? ” cried Raine, with the 
blood in his cheeks. “ It would be an 
insult ! ” 

“ It’s a pity you think so,” returned Hock- 

master reflectivelv. “ I wish I could un- 

*/ 

make my mind, but you see it’s all fixed up 
already.” 

“ What’s fixed up?” 

“ That I should ask her. Mr. Chetwynd, 
this is the first chance I have had. For 
eight years I have lost every trace of 
her. If you know a more honourable 


The Weaker Side. 


239 


way of repairing the wrong, you just tell 
me.” 

“ Man alive ! leave Geneva and never let 
her hear of you again.” 

“I will, if she refuses me. That’s fixed 
up too. I must be going.” 

“ Mrs. Stapleton is ill, and can’t see you 
this morning,” said Raine desperately. 

“ I have an appointment with her in five 
minutes’ time,” replied the other imper- 
turbably. “ Now, Mr. Chetwynd, I shall be 
proud to shake hands with you.” 

He extended his hand, which Raine, thrown 
off his balance for the moment, took 
mechanically ; and then he gave him a part- 
ing nod, jerked forward his shirt-cuffs, 
squared his shoulders and marched away, 
evidently pleased with himself. 

Raine sat down again by the marble table, 
took a mouthful of the vermouth in front of 
him, and tried to recover his equilibrium. 
Katherine was going to see this man, to 
listen to a proposal of marriage. A spasm 
of pain shot through - him. Perhaps the 
older love had smouldered through the years 


240 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


and had burst forth again. His hand shook 
as he put the glass to his lips again. 

People came and went in the cafe, sat 
down to their bock or absinthe and departed. 
The busy life of Geneva passed by on the 
sunny pavement ; brown-cheeked, pale-eyed 
Swiss peasants, blue-bloused workmen, 
tourists with veils and puggarees and 
Baedekers. Barefooted children, spying the 
waiter’s inattention, whined forward with 
decrepit bunches of edelweiss. Smart 
flower-sellers, in starched white sleeves, dis- 
played their great baskets to the idlers. 
Cabs, hired by family parties of Germans or 
Americans, drove off with raucous shouts 
and cracking of whips, from the rank in the 
shade opposite, by the garden railings. The 
manager of the cafe, in correct frock-coat, 
stood under the awning in the gangway, and 
smiled benignly on his customers. The time 
passed. But Raine sat there chin in hand, 
staring at the blue veins of the marble, his 
thoughts and emotions as inchoate as they. 

At last he became aware that someone 
looked at him and bowed. Rousing himself 


I 


The Weaker Side. 241 

from bis daze be recognized Eelicia, who 
was advancing along the pavement by tbe 
outer row of chairs. With a sudden impulse, 
be rose, and leaving some money for tbe 
waiter, went out and greeted her. 

Isn’t it a lovely day ? ” she said brightly. 
I couldn’t stay in the pension after de- 
jeuner, so I came out to do some shopping.” 
Dejeuner ! ” cried Raine. Do you 
mean to say it is over ? ” 

Why, of course. Haven’t you had 
any ? ” 

Ho — the time has passed. However, I 
am not very- hungry. Do you mind if I go 
shopping with you ? ” 

‘‘ I should feel flattered, Mr. Chetwynd.” 
She laughed up at him from under her 
red parasol. The sight of her, fresh in her 
youthful colouring and dainty white dress, 
seemed to soothe the man’s somewhat weary 
senses. A feeling of restfulness in her 
company stole over his heart, as he walked 
by her side. 

‘‘What are you going to buy ?” he asked 
as they passed by the shops. 


242 A Study in Shadows. 

“ I really don’t know. I must consider. 
Perhaps some needles and tape. But you 
must stay outside.” 

“ Oh no. I will come with you and see 
how it is done,” said Eaine with a smile. 

“ Then I’ll have to buy something im- 
portant that I don’t want,” said Felicia. 

A laughing argument, which lasted until 
the needles and tape were purchased. Then 
they continued their walk down the Rue de 
la Corraterie and came to the Bastion 
gardens, where they sat down under the 
trees. Felicia was happy. The brotherly 
kiss of the previous evening had restored to 
her the self-respect that her maidenhood 
seemed to have lost. He was still the 
prince of her girl’s heart, she could serve 
him now, she felt, without shame or shrink- 
ing. The growing woman in her divined his 
mood and strove to cheer him with her most 
lightsome self. 

Womanhood divined the mood, but inex- 
perience was blind to its dangerousness. 
Unconsciously her sweet charm of youth 
drew Raine nearer to her. When they 
parted, he felt that he had gone within an 


The Weaker Side. 


243 


ace of making love to her, and committing a 
base action. The thought stung him. He 
had not reckoned upon such weakness in 
himself. Spurred by an impatient scorn of 
his cowardice, his heart turned all the more 
passionately to Katherine. . 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE SIGNING OP A DEATH WAERANT. 

The balcony outside Katlierine’s room 
baked in the morning sun. A tiny patch of 
sunshine stood on the threshold of the open 
window like a hesitating guest. A cool 
breeze entered the room, fluttering the gay 
ribbons of a tambourine hanging against the 
wall. 

Hockmaster had gone. She did not know 
whether it was the relief of his absence or 
the rush of air caused by the opening of 
the door that sent a fierce momentary thrill 
through her frame. Her eyes were burning, 
her throat parched, her body quivering in 
a passion of anger. She stood for a few 
seconds, with parted lips, breathing great 
draughts of the cool air, and mechanically 
unloosened the neck of her dress ; it was 
strangling her. Then she turned, looking 


Tlie Signing of a Death Warrant. 245 

from right to left, like a caged creature 
panting for escape. Her glance fell upon 
the chair where Hockmaster had just sat. 
The edge of the rug at the feet was curled, 
the cushion flattened, the tidy disar- 
arranged — all hatefully suggestive of his 
continued presence. With a passionate 
movement, she rushed and restored the 
things to order, shaking the cushion with 
childish fierceness, till not a wrinkle was 
left. While the action lasted, it relieved 
her. 

She crossed the room, sat for a moment. 
But every pulse in her throbbed. Motion- 
lessness was impossible. She sprang to her 
feet and paced the room, moving her arms 
in passionate gestures. 

Forgive him ! Never — never in this 

world or the next. To have betrayed her — 
to Eaine of all men. The thought in its fiery 
agony w'as almost unthinkable. The drawl- 
ing, plaintive tone in which he had made his 
confession maddened her. The echo of his 
words pierced her brain. 

The sudden meeting the night before had 
shaken her. After the ordeal of the dinner 


246 A Study in Shadows. 

her nerves had given way, and she had lain 
awake all night with throbbing temples. 
She had risen, faint and ill, to read his note 
beseeching an interview. She had strung 
herself to go through with it. As the hours 
passed she had grown more self-possessed ; 
while waiting, had put some extra tidying 
touches to her room, rearranged some 
flowers she had bought the day before. 
She had even smiled to herself. After all, 
wdiat claim had this man upon her ? 

He had come, trim, point-device in his 
attire, looking scarcely a day older than when 
she had forsaken all for him. He had pleaded, 
owned himself a scoundrel, strengthening 
his cause by his veiy weakness. 

“ I was going to marry you, Kitty. 
Before God T was ! On my return from 
Mexico. I thought I was going to make 
millions — become one of the little gods of 
the earth. No man living would have let go 
the chance. I guess I was to have made 
you more powerful than the ordinary run of 
queens. Who could have told those mines 
were a fraud ? Van Hoetrnann himself was 
deceived. I came back at once. You were 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 247 

gone. I tried to trace you. I lost you. And 
all these years I have been kind of haunted 
by it. Before I left Chicago, a man was 
bragging he had never brought a cloud upon 
a woman’s life. I said to him : ‘ Sir, go 
down on your bended knees and thank 
Almighty God for it.’ ” 

She had listened, at first rather sceptically. 
But gradually his earnestness had convinced 
her of his sincerity. She had loved him, as 
she had understood love in those far-off days, 
when her young shadowed nature had 
expanded like a plant to the light. A little 
tenderness remained, called from forgotten 
depths to the surface. She had spoken 
very gently to him, forgiven him, the sweeter 
woman prompting her. 

And then he had urged marriage. 

“ It is what I have come to tell you, Kitty. 
Let me make amends for the past by devot- 
ing my life to your happiness. I am not 
right bad all through. I’ll begin again to 
love you as I did when first I saw you in 
that white dress, among the roses of the 
verandah.” 

She had smiled, shaken her head. It 


248 A Study in Shadows. 

could never be. She was quite happy. He 
had done his part, she was satisfied with his 
intentions. But the amends she claimed was 
that he should never seek to see her aojain. 
Only on that condition, that he left Geneva 
at once, looking upon this as a final parting, 
could she give him her full, unqualified 
forgiveness. He had insisted, wearying her. 
She had risen, held out her hand to him. 

“ You must go. It is a generous impulse 
that urges you to make reparation in this 
manner, not love — ” 

She paused for a breath, instinctively 
trying him with a touchstone, and smiling as 
it failed to draw the response of passion. 

“ Let your conscience be easy. You wish 
to serve me — you have a trust — my honour 
— ^you can cherish it.” 

And then the element of grotesque folly, 
that underlay this man’s nature, had prompted 
him to satisfy the childlike craving for plenary 
shrift and absolution. He told her that he 
' had confessed in an unguarded moment to 
Chetwynd, taken him further into his confi- 
dence. At first she had scarcely understood 
him — the suggestion had stunned, paralyzed 


The Si^nin^ of a Death Warrant. 249 

her for a few seconds, during which his 
words seemed to strike her senses dimly, like 
rain in the night. The complete realization 
came with a rush — the shame, the degradation 
— the abyss that he h^d opened at her feet. 
Sudden overpowering hate of him had flooded 
her senses and burst all barriers of reserve 
and self-control. 

He had committed the Unpardonable Sin, 
in a woman’s eyes — the crime against her 
honour. To have won her, kissed her, cast 
her aside — that is in the heart of a woman 
to forgive. But not the other. He had 
betrayed her. JSTot only that, but he had 
stabbed to the very soul of her love. The 
sight of the weak man, who had added this 
crowning outrage to the havoc he had wrought 
in her life, goaded her into madness. The 
very tenderness, with which she had but 
lately regarded him, made the revulsion all 
the stronger. 

Oh God ! I could kill vou I I could kill 
you 1 ” she had cried. 

He had turned white to the lips, scared 
at the transformation of the calm, subdued 
woman into the fierce, quivering creature 


250 


A Study in Shadows, 


with glittering eyes and passion-strung words. 
The eternal, wild, savage woman, repressed 
for years in the depths of her soul, had 
leapt out upon him to rend him in her mad 
anger. She had pointed to the door, stamp- 
ing her foot, driven him out of her sight. 
At the door he had paused, and looked at 
her with a strange mingling of manhood and 
submission in his eyes. 

“ I deserve my punishment — but I am not 
all bad. And so help me God, Kitty, my offer 
will hold good at any moment of my life I ” 

He had gone. She was alone, pacing the 
room, still shaken with the storm of ele- 
. mental fury. 

At last exhaustion weakened her. She 
drew aside the curtain before her bed, and 
threw herself down shivering with the shame 
that was eating into her bones. 

“ Oh, my God ! ” she moaned, “Oh, my 
God 1 That he should have learned — from 
him—” 

She drew the sides of the pillow tight 
about her face. It was agony of degradation. 
Her body shuddered at the thought of his 
contempt, the shattering of his faith in her. 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 251 

the man’s revolt at the brutalitv of the 

«/ 

revelation. She had been dragged through 
the mire before his eyes. In her degrada- 
tion she saw herself the object of his loatb- 
ing. 

The sharp striking of the little Swiss clock 
on her writing-table roused her. She 
raised a drawn face and looked in its 
direction. It was only eleven. She had 
thought hours had passed while she had 
lain there shivering. A little sense of dismay 
crept over her. If those few minutes had 
passed like hours, what would be the length 
of the hours themselves that had to be lived 
through that day ? 

If only she had sent him that letter, she 
thought bitterly. She might have fallen in 
his eyes, but not to those depths. He would 
have understood. The tremulous hope that 
his love would remain unclouded had sus- 
tained her. If only she could have spoken. 
A cynical irony seemed to govern the world. 

She went to the window and looked into 
the street. A sudden impulse to go out of 
doors into the open air came over her and as 
quickly died away. She could not bear to 


252 A Study in Shadows. 

walk along the street or in the public gar- 
dens — before hundreds of human eyes. Her 
soul felt naked and ashamed. If it had been 
country, where she could have gone and 
hidden herself in a quiet far-off corner, and 
laid her face upon the grass, and let the tree- 
branches whisper to her alone, it would have 
been different. She shrank from the contact 
of men and women — and yet her heart sank 
with a despairing sense of loneliness. 

The consciousness of it came with a shock, 
as to one, who, on a North Country fell, 
suddenly finds himself isolated from outer 
things by an impenetrable mist. She hurried 
away from the window, sat down, through 
sheer physical weariness, on the chair by 
her writing-table, and buried her face in her 
hands. 

\ 

A servant brought up a note. A fearful 
pang shot through her that it might be 
from Raine. The first glance showed her 
Hockmaster’s handwriting. The envelope 
bore the prmted heading of one of the 
cajh. 

“ If you have any pity, forgive me”^it ran. 
“ That I told you of my fault is proof of my 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 253 

earnest desire to begin a new life as regards 
you. I would give years of my life to win a 
kind word from you. All that was best and 
straightest in me spoke to you, Kitty. I am 
intensely miserable.” 

She crumpled up the note and threw it 
aside. His misery indeed ! 

She looked at the clock. Half-past eleven. 
The thought came to her that all her life was 
to drag along at this pace, endless minutes 
to each hour. 

The heat of her resentment against Hock- 
master cooled down, but the poignancy of her 
shame remained. The impulsive hope that 
had risen at the first sight of the letter left 
a train of new reflections. How could she 
ever meet Raine again ? 

She rose once more, and resumed her 
weary, restless movements about the room. 

“ Never, never ! ” she cided. “ His eyes 
would kill me — he would be kind — Oh God I 
I couldn’t bear it. I would rather have him 
curse me ! I would rather have him strike 
me ! Oh, Raine, Raine, my darling, my love ! 
I would have told you all — and you would 
have judged me from my own lips. You 


254 


A Study in Shadows. 


would not have put me from you. But this 
degradation — ” 

She was carrying death in her heart. 
She could not conceive the survival of his 
love. Men — unlike women — could not love, 
when once love had been turned to scorn. 
If they met, he would be considerate, kind, 
even pitiful. The thought of his con- 
temptuous pity scorched her. The picture of 
him rose before her, frank, generous, honour- 
able. She stopped short, as an agitating 
possibility occurred to her. 

Might not quixotism lead him to renew 
his offer ? 

The idea haunted her, and gathering 
strength from her knowledge and her idealized 
conception of his nature, grew into a convic- 
tion. For a moment she gave herself up to 
the temptation of taking him at his word. 
She loved him with every yearning fibre 
in her body. Without him life was an appal- 
ling waste. It would be enough for her 
merely to be with him, seek now and then a 
caress from his hand. 

But then came the passionate recoil. She 
shuddered, put up her hands before her face. 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 255 

‘‘Never!’’ she cried again. “I would ^ 
rather die ! Mj ignominy in his eyes is 
eternal. It would drag him down. He is 
too good to have a millstone like that tied 
around his neck.” 

Yet the longing swept through her again, 
and her mind swayed to and fro. The hours 
crept on. She refused an oifer of food made 
her by the servant. She felt as if it would 
choke her. She would ring if she wanted 
any later. 

What was she to do ? Her aching head 
throbbed as if it would burst, llockmaster’s 
note met her glance. She read it again. 
And this time she smoothed it out and re- 
placed it slowly on the table. Her anger 
was dulled by despair. Nothing remained 
of her vehement indignation. It was the 
back-swing of the pendulum. 

What was she to do ? llaine she could 
never meet face to face. Yet the whole 
woman in her yearned to meet him. She 
must cut herself adrift, vanish wholly from 
his life. Destiny seemed to point out the 
course she must follow. She sat down, her 
chin in her hands, brooding over it until the. 


256 A Study in Shadoivs. 

sense of fatefulness numbed her mind. Fate 
had brought her back this other from the 
dark back ward of time. He had changed 
her life once. Was it not meant that 
he should fulfil the work he had begun ? 
She must marry him. Raiue would be 
saved. It would be a life of sadness, self- 
sacrifice. But then women were born for 
it. 

Like many another woman, she was driven 
by an hour’s despair to commit herself to a 
life-long unhappiness. She had counted the 
cost, and, unlike a man, blindly resolved to 
pay it. It is part of a woman’s nature to 
trust herself to the irreparable. Katherine 
went to her table and wrote two letters — one 
to each man. The pen flew quickly, her 
intelligence illuminated by a false light. She 
sealed them, rang the bell, despatched them 
by the servant. It was done. She had 
burned her ships, committed herself irre- 
vocably. A period of dull calm followed, 
during which she pretended to eat some food 
that she ordered, and read unintelligently an 
article in a review. But at last the words 
. swam before her eyes. The review fell to 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 257 

the ground. The agony of her life came 
upon her, and she broke down utterly. 

Felicia in the next room was humming an 
air. She had returned from her walk with 
Raine and was taking off her things. If 
she had been called upon suddenly to name 
the air, it would have slipped like a waking 
dream from her memory. The mingled 
altruistic and personal feelings of the past 
two hours had lifted her into an exalted mood, 
which was not altogether joyous. She was 
passing through one of those rare moments, 
when a young impressionable girl lives 
spiritually, without definite consciousness of 
personal needs, in a certain music of the soul. 
A sexual manifestation transcendeutalized, if 
one pushes inquiry to the root of things. The 
magic of her sex had drawn the pain from a 
strong man’s eyes and had touched his inner 
self. 

Suddenly a sound struck upon her ear and 
the song died upon her lips. She listened, 
puzzled. It came again, a moan and a 
choking sob. Already somewhat over- 
wrought, sbe held her breath, instinctively 

s 


258 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


seeking some clue of association. She grasped 
it with a rush of emotion. Once she had 
heard that cry before, from a woman’s 
depths, on the evening of poor little Miss 
Bunter’s tragedy. 

It was Katherine, on the other side of the 
wooden partition, crying her heart out. 
Fibres within the girl were strangely stirred, 
filling her with a great, yearning pity. At 
some moments of their lives women can touch 
the stars. Moved by an uncontrollable 
impulse she went out, knocked at Katherine’s 
door and entered. 

Katherine rose, looked at her half- 
bewildered ; then the magnetism of the 
sympathy in Felicia’s eyes and impulsively 
outstretched arms attracted heriuvoluntarily. 
She made a step forward, and, with a little 
cry, half-sob, half- welcome, gave herself up 
to Felicia’s clasp. • 

“ I heard you. I had to come,” said 
Felicia. Katherine did not reply. For a 
long time they sat together without speaking, 
the elder woman’s misery turned to sadness 
by the sweet and sudden tenderness. She 
cried softly in the girl’s arms. 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 259 

“ It was good of you to come,” she said at 
last. “ I had broken down — utterly broken 
down.” 

“ I felt it,” answered Felicia gently. She 
smoothed Katherine’s ruffled fair hair with 
a light touch and kissed her forehead. 

“ It will come right in time, dear.” 

But Katherine shook her head. 

“ Some things are final, irrevocable. The 
sun goes out of one’s heart for ever and 
ever.” 

“ Could I do nothing for you ? Practically 
I mean. You see, I know — a word — it might 
be in my power — ” 

She hesitated, touching upon delicate 
ground. Katherine lifted a tear-stained face, 
and looked at her curiously. 

“ You love him — and yet you would help 
me ? ” 

“ Because he loves you, dear,” said Felicia. 
“ And because it has come upon me that I 
have been doing you a great wrong — in 
thinking badly of yon.” 

“ What has made you think better of 
me ?” 

“ Intuition, I suppose — and when I seemed 

s 2 


26 o a Shidy in Shadows. 

to realize what his love for you meant. He 
could only love what was worthy of him.” 

“ That is why he can love me no more,” 
said Katherine in a low voice. 

She paused for a moment, her breath com- 
ing quickly. Then she continued hurriedly, 
twining her fingers in a nervous clasp : 
“ Things have happened that make it im- 
possible for him to care for me — I shall 
never see him again. I am going away this 
afternoon — see,” — she pointed to a dressing- 
bag packed, but still open, lying on the 
table. “ And I shall pass out of his life 
altogether.” 

“ But I don’t understand ! ” cried Felicia, 
in grieved dismay. “ What could make him 
cease to love you ? ” 

“ I have not been what the world calls a 
good woman, Felicia. God knows I have paid 
the penalty already — but the bitterest penalty 
of all is yet to be paid — the surrender of the 
longed-for Paradise, that only a woman who 

has lived as I have done can long for. Oh, 

% 

my child, my dear, tender little girl, the 
way of the world is made hard for women 
sometimes.” 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 261 

Why sliould tlie women always suffer?’^ 
asked Felicia. 

Why ? God knows. It is life.’’ 

If I were a man/’ said Felicia, with a 
glow in her eyes, I would think it das- 
tardly to let a woman suffer, if I loved 
her.” 

There are some things that kill love,” 
replied Katherine bitterly. 

Has Eaine told you so ? ” 

Ah, no. He is too generous.” 

Then how do you know ? ” 

My dear, when you leave a cut flower 
in the sun you know it will be withered up. 
There is no need for you to watch it to make 
sure.” 

‘‘But — if he still loves you? He did 
last night — he did this morning.” 

Katherine gently laid her hand on the 
girl’s lips. 

“ Hush ! I told you. What I have done 
can’t be undone.” 

“ But you love him, Katherine,” Felicia 
burst out impetuously. 

“ Don’t you see I am signing my death- 
warrant ? ” cried Katherine. 


262 


A Study in Shadows. 


Tier voice vibrated and sbe looked at 
Felicia with shining eyes — “ I shall love him 
till I die, as the best and wisest man of men 
that has ever walked the earth.” 

She rose, crossed the room, came back 
and laid her hands upon Felicia’s shoulders, 
and looked into her young, wondering eyes. 

“ Dear,” she said, “ I shall always 
remember what you have done for me to-day. 
When you came in, I thought my heart was 
broken — but your tenderness stole over me 
like a charm — and now you see I can talk 
quite sensibly, and smile, just like my own 
self again. You must bid me good-bye, dear. 
I must go soon. But what I want to tell 
you is this. Think kindly of me — ah, don’t 
you cry, child — there has been enough of tears 
to-day — think of me, dear, as a sister - 
woman, who stepped aside once out of the 
beaten track and for whom fate has been too 
much. And, Felicia dear, when I am gone 
• — it will take very, very little to make Raine 
love you — ” 

“ Ah, no ! ” cried Felicia passionately. 

But Katherine smiled her sad, self- 
controlled smile. 


The Signing of a Death Warrant. 263 


“All, yes! He cannot help loving you — 
and so God giv'e you happiness.” 

“ 1 can’t bear you to go like this. I can’t 
bear it ! ” cried- Felicia. 

/ 

“We all have to work out our destiny,” 
said Katherine. “ Now good-bye, dear — 
God bless you.” 

A few moments later, Katherine was alone 
again, finishing her preparations for depar- 
ture. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


FELICIA VICTEIX. 

“What you have learned about me,” 
Katherine had written to Raine, “ I was to 
have told you last night. I had written to 
you a long letter, but I was too weak to send 
it. I resolved to tell it to your own ears. 
But it was impossible for me to speak to you 
last night for I was suffering too much. 

“ My story is a simple one. Married to a 
man many years my senior — treated with a 
mild gravity which my girlish wilfulness took 
for harshness — a great many tears — a great 
longing for the tenderness that never came — a 
gay, buoyant nature meeting mine, changing, 
it seemed, my twilight into sunshine — and. 
then — what you know. 

“ Do not judge me harshly, Raine. But for- 
get me. Forget that I came and troubled your 
life. Even were my name free from blemish, 


Felicia Victrix. 


265 


T am not good enougli to be your wife. For- 
get me, and take to your heart one who will 
make you happier than I could have done — 
one younger, sweeter, purer. And she loves 
you. Let her win you. 

I have suffered much to be able to write 
this. It is a farewell. To meet you would 
be too great pain for us both. This morning, 
as you know, I saw Mr. Hockmaster, and I 
have promised to marry him. Fate rules 
these things for us. To the day of my death 
I shall pray for your happiness. — K.S.’' 
Raine’s face grew hard as he read the 
letter. A man quickly wearies of successive 
emotions. His self-pride asserts itself and 
makes him rebel against falling into weak- 
nesses of feeling. He had been angry at 
'allowing himself to be drawn towards Felicia, 
and a natural reaction of loyalty to Katherine 
had followed. Now this was checked by her 
calm, unimpassioned words and the astound- 
ing intelligence of her engagement to Hock- 
master. He was completely staggered. To 
his dismay, he became conscious of an awful 
void in his life. It seemed to be filled with 
purposeless shadows. He set his teeth and 


2.66_ A Study in Shadows. 

wrapped his strong man’s pride about him. 
The thought of himself as John a’ Dreams 
was a lash to his spirit. He crumpled up 
the paper in his hands and strode to and fro 
in his room. 

She was to marry Hockmaster. It was 
incredible, preposterous, except on one hypo- 
thesis — the recrudescence of the old passion 
that had swept aside the social barriers for 
this man’s sake. It was the most galling 
thought of all, it racked him, drew him 
down to a lower plane of feeling, blindc'd his 
clear insight into delicate things. Perhaps 
if a man did not sink lower than himself on 
some occasions, he could not rise higher than 
himself on others. 

He drew a chair to the open French 
window. The room, being on the top storey, • 
had no balcony, but a wrought-iron balustrade 
fixed on the outside of the jambs. He leant 
his arms over it and looked into the familiar 
street. He hated it. Geneva was intolerable. 
As soon as his father was able to travel, he 
would shake the dust of it from off his feet. 
A banterinof letter had come that morninof 

o O 

from his cousin, Mrs. Monteith, at Oxford. A 



•“ / Iiain: told Felicia, Do you mind ? 



Felicia Victrix. 


267 . 

phrase or two passed through his mind. 
Was he going to bring back two brides or 
half a one 

“ How damned vulgar women can be at 
times ! ” he exclaimed angrily, and he rose 
with impatience from his chair, as if to drive 
Mrs. Monteith from his thoughts. 

He uni’olled Katherine’s crumpled letter 
and read it through again. Then he thrust 
it into his pocket and decided to go and sit 
with his father. 

But, before he could reach the door, a 
knock was heard. He opened it, and to his 
surprise found Felicia. 

“You — is my father — ?” 

“No. I want to speak to you. Can I ?” 

“ Do you mind coming in ? It is not very 
untidy.” 

He held the door for her to pass in, then 
he closed it and came up to her enquiringly. 
Felicia stood in the middle of the room, with 
her hands behind her back, a favourite atti- 
tude. Her dark cheeks were flushed and 
her sensitive lips were parted, quivering 
slightly. 

“It’s about Katherine!” she burst out 


268 


A Study in Shadows. 


suddenly. “ Please let me talk, or I stall 
not be able to say what I want to. Since 
last night — when you kissed me — I have 
thought I might come to you — as your sister 
might — and because I care for you like that, 
I feel I can tell you. I have just been with 
Katherine. She is going away this afternoon.” 

“ At once ? ” asked Raine, startled at the 
apparent rapidity of events. 

“Yes. Are you sending her away ?” 

“I? Oh no.” 

“ But why must she go, Paine ? Tell me ; 
need she go ? ” 

“ Katherine is mistress of her own actions.” 

“ Then you don’t care ? ” 

She looked at him earnestly, with moist 
eyes. There was a note of passion in her 
voice, to which Paine, sympathetic, found 
himself responding. 

“ What is the use of my caring, since she 
is going of her own accord without a word 
from me ? ” 

“But a word from you would make her 
stay.” 

“ What do you know about all this ? ” he 
asked abruptly. 


Felicia Victrix. 


269 


“ I know that you have broken her heart,” 
said Felicia. “Oh! knowing her — and loving 
her — it is hard not to forgive,” 

“ There is no question of forgiveness,” 
replied Raine. “ Did she tell you I would 
not forgive her ? ” 

“ No. A woman does not need to be idlA 
these things — she knows them and feels 
them. Must a woman always, always, always 
suffer ? Why can’t a man be great and 
noble sometimes — like Christ who forgave ? ” 
“But, my dear child, you are talking 
wildly,” cried Raine earnestly. “ God knows 
there is nothing to forgive. I knew long 
ago a shadow had been cast over her life — 
and I loved her. A strange freak of destiny 
brought the man here — last night, acciden- 
tally, he told me the details — and I loved 
her. I have not seen her. It is not I who 
drive her away. Read that, and you can see 
it is not I.” 

He thrust the letter into her hand, and 
watched her as she read, Four-and-twenty 
hours ago, he would as soon have thought 
of crying his heart’s secrets aloud in the 
public streets, as of delivering them into the 


270 A Study in Shadows. 

keeping of this young girl. But now it 
seemed natural. Her exalted mood had in- 
fected him, lifted him on to an unconven- 
tional plane. 

- The blood rushed to her cheeks as she 
read the lines in which reference was made 
to herself. When she had finished, she 
looked at him with a strange light in her 
eyes. 

“ And you are satisfied with this ? ” she 
said quickly. 

“ I am dumfounded by it. She has 
promised to marry this man.” 

“ And can’t you see why ? Isn’t it as 
clear to you as the noonday ? ” 

“ The old love is stronger, I suppose.” 
“Baine!” cried the girl, in ringing re- 
proach. “ How dare you say that, think it 
even ? Can’t you see the agony that letter 
has cost her ? To me it is quivering in 
every line. Why did you let that man go 
to her instead of yourself ? Oh, heavens ! 
if I were a man, and sucli a thing had 
happened regarding the woman I loved, I 
should have lain outside her door all nio*ht 

O 

to guard her — I should have seen her, if 


Felicia Victrix. 


2'/l 


hell- fire had been between ns. But you let 
her suffer. You put your pride above your 
love, like a man — you were silent. You let 
her hear from this man that you knew — 
you left her to grapple with her shame 
alone.” 

Felicia walked about the room like a young 
lioness. The words came in a flood. In 
the championing of her sister- woman she 
lust sense of conventional restrici ions. Raine 
was no longer Raine, but the typefication of 
a sex against which she was battling for her 
own. 

“ Can’t you read into it all ? ” she con- 
tinued. “ Can’t you see the degradation she 
seemed to have fallen into in your eyes ? But 
you only think of yourself — of your pride — 
of the bloom brushed off from your ideal. 
Never a thought for her — of the god hurled, 
from her heaven. She would marry this 
man to cut herself adrift from you, to get 
out of your life without further troubling it 
— to ease your conscience, lest it should 
ever prick you for having left her. She is 
marrying him because her heart is broken — 
who else but a noble, high-souled woman 


272 A Shidy in Shadows. 

could Lave written this letter ? I better 
than she ! Oh, Raine — if you have a spark 
of love for her left — go and throw yourself 
at her knees, before it is too late.” 

Her voice broke towards the end. The 
strain was telling on her. She sank for rest 
upon the chair by the window, and laid her 
bmming cheek against the iron balustrade. 
Raine came to her side. 

“ You can thrash me a little more, if you 
like.” 

But the familiar, kindly tone suddenly 
awoke Felicia to the sense of their relations. 
She hung her head, confused. 

“ Forgive me,” she said. “ I ought not 
to have spoken like that to you — I lost 
control over myself. You mustn’t think of 
what I have said.” 

“ I’ll think of it all through my life, 
Felicia,” said Raine. 

A silence fell upon them. The girl was 
shaken and weary. Raine was confronting 
a new hope, that made his heart beat. 

“ Raine,” she said, after a while. 

He did not reply. She looked up, and 
saw him staring into the street. 


I 


Felicia Victrix, 273 

By God ! ” he cried, suddenly, and before 
Felicia could realize what he was doing, he 
had seized his hat from the table and had 
rushed from the room, leaving the door open. 

Felicia leant over the balustrade, and 
looked down. Katherine was there, near 
the corner, in the act of giving over her 
dressing-bag to a lad in a blue blouse, who 
had offered his services. Felicia watched 
until she saw Raine emerge beneath the arch- 
way, stride like a man possessed after 
Katherine, catch her up, and lay his hand 
upon' her arm, as she turned a startled face 
towards him. Then the tears came into her 
eyes, and she left the window and went down 
to her own room, where she locked herself in 
and cried miserably. Such is the apparently 
inconsequent way of women. 

Katherine,” said Raine, when he came 
up with her. She stopped, and looked at 
him speechlessly. 

‘‘I have just caught you in time,” he said, 
with masculine brusqueness. We must 
talk together. Come into the Gardens.” 

car't,” she replied, hurriedly. ‘‘My 
train — ” 


T 


274 


A Study in Shadows. 


“ You can miss your train. "WTiere are 
you going ? ” 

“ Lausanne,” she answered, weakly, with 
lowered eyes. 

“ There are quantities of trains. Come.” 
He drew her arm gently. She obeyed, 
powerless to resist. He found a seat away 
from the promenade. An old peasant was 
dozing at one end, and a mongrel was 
stretched at his feet. They were practically 
alone. The old man in his time had seen 
many English and innumerable pairs of 
lovers. Neither interested him. He did 
not even deign to turn a lustreless eye in 
their direction. The boy with the dressing- 
bag had meekly followed them, and stood 
by, politely, cap in hand. Did madame 
want him to wait wi!h the bag ? 

“ No,” replied Raine, pulling a franc from 
his pocket. Take it to the concierge at 
the Pension Boccard.” 

Katherine half rose, agitated. 

“ No, no. I must go to Lausanne. 
You mustn’t keep me.” 

But the boy had dashed off, clutching his 
franc-piece. Raine bent down till the ends 
of his moustache nearly brushed her veil. 


Felicia Victrix. 275 

I will keep you,- Katherine, until you 
tell me you love me no longer.’’ 

Don’t torture me,” she said, piteously. 

That is why I tried to avoid meet- 
ing — to spare us both. I knew" your gene- 
rosity.” 

My generosity,” echoed Kaine, with 
effective interruption. My longing, my 
needs, the happiness of my life ! If you care 
for me, it is not torturing you to tell you I 
love you — I can’t live a man’s life without 
you. When I first read your letter, it crushed 
the soul out of me. I did not understand ; 
afterwards I did. Some day you shall learn 
how. I love you, Katherine, need you, yearn 
for you.” 

His passion grew as he looked at her, 
watching the faint colour come and go on 
the face beneath the veil. She seemed too 
frao^ile and delicate for the rude buffetin^s of 

o o 

the world. An immense wave of emotion 
swept through him. It was his indefeasible 
right to protect her, cherish her, hold her in 
his arms, close to him. 

And Katherine was trembling, every chord 
in her vibrated. She could not speak. She 
flashed on him a quick, sidelong, feminine 


276 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


glance, and met his eyes fixed upon her. 
They were blue and strong, half-fierce, half- 
tender. The man’s will and longing were in 
them. She shrank, and yet she looked again, 
loving him for their intensity. Raine spoke 
on as he had never known it had been in his 
power to speak. The old peasant dozed, 
regardless of , their presence or of that of a 
little dusty child who squatted down by him 
to play with the dog. Through the trees 
and shrubs in front could be seen glimpses 
of white dresses, scraps of the passers-by on 
the path along the quay. But this quiet, 
somewhat unkempt corner remained un- 
disturbed. 

“ I can’t, I can’t,” said Katherine, at last. 
“ I have pledged myself — I can’t go back.” 

“I will settle that matter,” ho replied, with 
a half smile. “ Leave it to me. Men under- 
stand one another. You are mine, Katherine, 
my darling, mine, my wife — if you love me.” 

The tenderness of his voice thrilled through 
her. She raised her eyes to his, this time to 
be held there. 

» 

“ Love you ! ” 

He read her lips rather than heard them. 


Felicia Victrix. 


277 

And nothing again shall part us ? You 
will marry me, Katherine ? ’’ 

All the woman in her cried yes/’ but it 
also held her back. 

Will you love me in after years as now, 
Raine? Will you never come to think that 
this shame that has come to me was deserved ? 
Think of it, dear, in your clear, honest way. 
You will never come to feel that you have 
given all your wealth for what, like most 
men, you should have trodden under foot ? 
Your life’s happiness — mine — depend upon 
your answering it from your heart of hearts, 
dear. Judge me now for ever and ever.” 

‘‘ As God hears me,” said Raine, with the 
love in his voice. To me you are ever the 
purest and the noblest and tenderest of 
women. You love me with a woman’s 
love and I with a man’s ; and we will love 
soul to soul, dear, till we die. Our love, dear, 
is as sacred to me as the ghost I buried in it 
a few weeks ago. All this will be like a 
troubled dream — all the past, darling, in both 
our lives as shadows. Thank God ! ” 

He put his arms suddenly round her, 
drew her to him, and kissed her. For both 


278 A Study in Shadows, 

of them the world stood still, and the 
commonplace gardens were Eden, and the 
old peasant nodded his weatherbeaten head, 
and the mongrel and the dusty child looked 
on unastonished, like the beasts when the 
first apple was eaten. 

Raine went, an hour or so after, to the 
Hotel National and found Hockmaster out- 
side, cultivating a dinner appetite with sherry 
and bitters. He jumped up when he per- 
ceived his visitor, and came towards him. 

“ Hello, Chetwynd ! This is real friendly 
of you. Come and sit down — join me.” 

Raine accepted the seat, but declined the 
sherry. 

“ Do yon mind my asking you a very 
intimate question ? ” asked Raine. 

“ As many as you like,” said Hockmaster, 
with naive effusion. “I have given you a 
sort of right to be familiar. Of course, 
whether I answer it is a matter for my 
discretion.” 

“ Precisely. But I hope you will. Are 
your feelings very deeply engaged in th.is 
affair with Mrs. Stapleton ? ” 

“ Sir,” said Hockmaster. “ I’ve repaired 


Felicia Victrix. 2 79 

a wrong that has set at rest a damned uneasy 
conscience/’ 

‘^From which I gather you have obeyed 
your conscience rather than your heart,” said 
Raine. 

I am going to be married,” replied 
Hockmaster, between the first puffs of a 
cigar he was lighting. ‘^Perhaps you may 
not know that. So I guess Pd better fall 
back upon discretion. It is best in affairs 
between man and wife.” 

‘^Yes, but suppose it was broken off?” 

What ? My marriage ? ” 

He stretched himself out in a comfortable 
attitude, his hands behind his head, and 
regarded Raine placidly. 

What sort of interest can the concerns 
of a worm like me have for you ? ” 

“ Every interest in the world,” replied 
Raine, flushing. “ If it’s merely a question 
of conscience on your part, I have no scruple 
in asking you to release Mrs. Stapleton from 
her engagement.” 

“ Did she send you ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Tell you any reason ? ** 


28 o 


A Shidy in Shadows. 


Hockmaster’s tone irritated Raine. He 
rose quickly, thrusting his straw hat to the 
back of his head, and stood over the recumbent 
American, with his hands on his hips. 

“ Yes, she did. Mrs. Stapleton is going 
to marry me.” 

The words brought the other to his feet 
with a force that nearly upset the small table 
in front of him. 

“ Grod alive, man ! ” he cried, realizing the 
whole situation in a rush. “ Why on earth 
didn’t you tell me before? ” 

The two men looked into one another’s 
eyes. It was Raine who was first dis- 
concerted. The intense distress of the other 
was too genuine for him not to feel touched. 

“You’x’e the first man for years,” said 
Hockmaster, “ that I have felt drawn to in 
friendship ; and I have been powerfully drawn 
to you. I would have cut off my head sooner 
-than said or done anything to pain you. 
Why didn’t you stop me this morning ? ” 

“ I tried to dissuade you.” 

Hockmaster threw away his extinct cigar, 
and put his hands in his pockets dejectedly. 

“ Yes, you did so j and I went on 


Felicia VictiHx. 


281 


running knives into you. Why didn’t you 
pitch me into the lake last night ? I wish to 
God you’d do it now.” 

‘^We will forget all that,” said Raine, 
kindly. 

*‘You may, but I shan’t. And she — for 
heaven’s sake, ask her to forgive me. I was 
trying to do my best. You believe that, 
don’t you ? ” 

With all my heart,” said Raine. 

And I’ll tell you, Ohetwynd,” continued 
Hockmaster, with a truer ring of feeling in 
his voice than Raine had ever perceived, I 
meant to be a good man to her, to put down 
my cloak over every puddle in life for her to 
walk upon, to make her just as happy as I 
could. But I guess I’ve been a blamed fool. 
I’ve been a blamed fool all my life. First 
thing I remember was running away from 
school to live in the woods. At first it was 
glorious. Then it rained all night, and I 
crawled back next morning sick and miserable, 
and was put to bed for a month. I reckon 
I’ll go home. My White Lead Company’s 
going to burst like all the other bubbles. I 
heard this morning. An hour ago I thought, 


282 


A Study in Shadows. 


‘ Anyway, I’ve found a good friend and a wife 
in Europe.’ Now that’s gone. But she’ll be 
happy. You’re worth twenty million of me. 
You won’t see me again. I suppose I’m the 
sorriest man standing on the earth at the 
present moment ; but you won’t think worse 
of me than I am, will you ? ” 

He looked sideways at Raine, in his odd, 
appealing way. 

“ Upon my soul,” cried Raine, in an 
outburst of generous feeling, grasping him 
by the shoulder, “ I don’t know whether you 
are not one of the most lovable men I have 
ever met ! ” 

Raine walked back to the pension with 
love in his heart towards all mankind. God 
was in his heaven. All was right with the 
w'orld. 

He found Katherine and Felicia in the 
salon w'aiting for dinner, in company with 
Mme. Popea and Frau Schultz. Mme. Popea 
cried out on seeing him, — 

“ Another happy one ! What has made 
you all look so beatified ? ” 

“ The eternal beauty of humanity,” re- 
turned Raine, with a smile. 


Felicia Victrix. 


283 


And yon have caught the plague of 
epigrams/’ said Frau Schultz. I asked 
Miss Graves why she had such a colour, and 
she said, ^because the world seemed wider 
to-day.’ It’s a new language.” 

It is the turn of madame,” said Mme. 
Popea, in her vivacious way. 

Katherine laughed. 

This is not a parlour game, you know. 
But perhaps it is because I am going to dine.” 
Raine’s heart leapt at the little touch of 
gaiety. His eyes showed her his gladness. A 
stream of the other guests entered. She took 
advantage of the sudden filling of the salon 
to draw him to her side. A glance asked a 
tremulous question. He reassured her with a 
whisper/ and they went out on to the balcony. 
‘‘ I have told my father,” said Raine. 

He will love you, dear.” 

She pressed his arm for answer. There 
was a long silence, which Raine, half divining 
her mood, would not break. At last he 
said, lover-wise, — 

Tell me your thoughts, beloved.” 

I was thinking that I have lived thirty- 
one years, and I have never known till now 


284 


A Study in Shadows. 


what even freedom from care was. I seemed 
blinded by the light, like the prisoners let 
out from the Bastille. There is something 
awful in such happiness.” 

“ It shall be with you to the end,” said 
Baine. 

“ I know it,” she replied. 

Then, after a pause, — 

“ I have told Felicia. Do you mind? ” 

“ We owe her a great debt,” said Raine. 
“ She came to me this afternoon, after leav- 
ing you.” 

The blood rose in Katherine’s cheeks, and 
she looked up timidly into his face. 

“ I think I shall bring her here to you. 
You will know what to say to her.” 

She disappeared for a moment by the 
open window, and then returned with 
Felicia, whom she left with Eaine. He 
came forward, and took both her hands in 
his. 

“ How can I ever repay you ? ” 

“ You have done too much for me 
already,” said Felicia. 

There was a little combat of generous 
words. 


Felicia Victrix. 285 

The dinner-gong sounded the end of the 
talk. 

“ And the Pension Boccard,” he said ; 
“ you will have some pleasant memories of 
it?” 

“ Ah, yes. I owe too much to it.’* 

“ How ? ” asked Raine. 

“Tou may think it an odd thing to say, 
but it seems to have changed me from a girl 
into a woman.” 

“ Does that bring you happiness ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Felicia, musingly. 

And then, after a pause, — 
think so.” 


THE END. 





GOLD OR SILVER? 


By M. A. Miller. With Pen Pictures of the 
Times. Facts, Figures, and Experience — all in 
a tone that says: “Come, let us reason together” Extracts from the 
speeches of ex-Secretary Sherman and Secretary J. G Carlisle. 

$1.00; p:p3tj25c. 


SOUND MONEY. 


The Salvation of Our National Honor Conclusive 
Arguments by William C Whitney, John G Carlisle, 
William F Vilas, Arthur P. Gorman, David B Hill, William McKinley, 
John Sherman, Henry Cabot Lodge, Justin S. Morrill, Charles A Dana, 
Henry Watterson and others A Symposium of the Greatest Statesmen and 
Philosophers of the Age on the Money Question. 

$ 1 . 00 ; p«.poi*, 25c. 


FREE SILVER, 


The Democratic Campaign Hand-Book All the 
Arguments at a Glance By C. M Stevans, Author 
of “ Bryan and Sewall No Crown of Thorns, No Cross of Gold, — Bryan, 
Be Prepared to Meet the Assertions of the Bondholders. 

Clotli, ®1,00; paper, 25c. 


Embracing a Complete Report of the 
St. Louis Convention By Byron 


McKINLEV AND HOBART. 

Andrev/s, Author of the “Life of John A. Logan,” etc, etc. About 400 
pages, profusely illustrated. tTotlfi, si*l Oo ; paper, 25c, 

BRYAN AND SEWALL 

By C. M. Stevans. Speeches, Portraits, 
Complete Report of the Democratic Convention at Chicago. A thorough 
presentation of the Silver Interest, and the Battle of the Standards. A faith- 
ful record of the great ground swell, the tidal wave, of the humbler masses 
of the American people to restore their country to the prosperity of former 
times. Fully Illustrated. Cloilli, $1.00 ; paper, 25c. 

Neely’s New Reversible Political Chart, Hr-;-] 

States Map combined. Better than an Encyclopedia. Printed in ii Beauti- 
ful Colors. The only Census Map published. A Double Wall Map. 5 feet 6 
inches by 3 feet 10 inches, mounted on Rollers, top and bottom, ready to 
hang. A Complete History of Our Government by Administrations, Polit- 
ical Parties and Congresses, from Washington to Cleveland. 

Full Monnfed, $1.00 

For Sale Everywhere, or sent, Postpaid, on Receipt of Price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, 

1 14 Fifth Avenue, 


New York. 



Paper Covers, ^ 
25 Cts. each Vol. 


GOLD OR SILVER ? Both Sides 
Ably Discussed. With full-page pen 
pictures of the times. M. A. Miller. 

FREE SILVER. The Democratic 
Campaign Hand-Book. All the Argu- 
ments at a Glance. C M. Stevans. 

SOUND MONEY. The Salvation of 
Our National Honor. By leading 
Republicans and Democrats. 

BRYAN AND SEWALL and the 
Great Issue of 1 h 96. Fully Illus- 
trated. C. M. Stevans. 

McKinley and HOBART. Pro- 
tection, Sound Money, Prosperity 
Over 400 pages. Fully Illustrated. 
Byron Andrews. 

Sacrificed Love. Illustrated Daudet. 

In Strange Company. Boothby. 

At Market Value. Grant Allen. 

Rachel Dene. Buchanan. 

The Minor Chord Chappie. 

The Gates of Dawn. Hume. 

Nance ; A Kentucky Belle. Greene. 

Bitter Fruits M Caro. 

Are Men Gay Deceivers ? Mrs. Frank 
Leslie. 

Nye and Riley’s Wit and Humor. 

Bill Nye’s Sparks 

Love Affairs of a Worldly Man. Justice. 

Love Letters of a Worldly Woman. 
Clifford 

The Spider of Truxillo R. H Savage, 

The Captain’s Romance. Opie Read. 

Lourdes Emile Zola. 

The Adopted Daughter. Fawcett 

Tom Brown’s School Days. Hughes. 

Kidnapped. Stevenson. 

Micah Clarke. Doyle. 

A Romance of Two Worlds. Corelli. 

The Sign of the Four. Doyle. 

Sport Royal. Anthony Hope. 

Father Stafford. Anthony Hope. 


Treasure Island. Stevenson. 

Master and Man. Tolstoi. 

The Deemster Hall Caine. 

The White Company. Doyle. 

The Bondman Hall Caine. 

Burkett’s Lock. M G McClellan. 

The Child of the Ball De Alarcon. 
Claudea’s Island. Esme Stuart. 

Lydia Sydney Christian 
Webster’s Pronouncing Dictionar^^ 
Around the World in Eighty Days. 

The House of the Seven Gables. 

When a Man’s Single. J. M. Barrie. 

A Tale of Two Cities Dickens. 
Beyond the City. A. Conan Doyle. 
The Man in Black Weyman 
The Maharajah’s Guest An Exile. 
The Last of the Van Slacks Van Zht 
What People Said An Idle Exile. 
Mark Twain, His Life and Work. 

The Major in Washington 
Rose and Ninette. Alphonse Lnudet. 
The Minister s Weak Point. David 
Maclure 

At Love’s Extremes. Thompson. 

By Right. Not Law. R H. Sherard. 
Ships That Pass in the Night. 

Dodo E F. Benson 
A Holiday in Bed, and Other Sketches, 
J M. Barrie. 

Christopher Columbus Wilkie. 

In Darkest England. General Booth. 
Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Stowe. 

Dream Life. Ik. Marvel 
Cosmopolis. Paul Bourgct. 

Reveries of a BacheloK* Ik Marvel. 
Was it Suicide ? Ella Wheeler Wii'cox. 
An English Girl in America Powell. 
People’s Reference Book — i'OO 99t) Facts. 
Martha Washington Cook Book 
Health and Beauty Emily Bouton. 
Social Etiquette Emily S. Bouton, 
Looking Forward. 


For sale everywhere, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of 25 Cents 
per volume, by the publisher, 


F. Tennyson Neely, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York. 



? 




Tv^dT-0 


hU^<y^ 

*^lir^ ^^t-rvS. — 



NEELY’S LATEST BOOKS. 


tJaptain Charles King^ IT, S. A. 

Trumpeter Fred. A startling story of th® 
plains. Full page illustrations. 
ram, 75 cents. 

An Army W ife. Suspicion and intrigue at 
headquarters. i2mo. Price $1.25. 

Fort Frayne. 7th edition. i2mo. $i.«5. 

Maoc Nordau, 

How Women Love. Study and story, brlF 
liant P.nd energetic. i2mo. $1.25. 

The Right TO Love. i2mo. $1.50, 

The Comedy of Sentiment. i2mo. $i go, 
The Ailment of the Century. 12: no, 
$1.50. 

^Robert TV, Chambers, 

The King in Yellow. Neely’s Prismatio 
Library. 75 cents. 

•John W, Harding, 

An Art Failure. A story of the Latia 
Quarter as it is. Profusely illustrated. 
Neely’s Prismatic Library. 75 cents. 

Robert Buchanan and Henry Murray» 
The Charlatan, i2mo. $1.25. 

. 4.nthony Hope, 

Father Stafford. The author’s best 
story. Neely’s Prismatic Library. Buck- 
ram, 75 cents. 

Ethan Alienas 

Washington, or the Revolution. In 
two parts. Each part, cloth, $ 1 . 50 . 

The Bachelor and the Chafing Dish. 2ndt 
Edition. $1.00. 

Cheiro’s Language of the Hand. 5th Edition. 
$2.50. 

If We Only Knew and other poems by Cheiro# 
50 cents. 

Raul Bourget, 

The DisciPLE. i2mo. $1.25. 

The Land of Promise. 16 page illustra- 
tions. i2mo. $1.50. 

F. Tenneyson Neely# 

Cef/Tork, Chicago, 

114 Fifth Avenue, 254 Franklin Streat* 


The King in Yellow* 

BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS* 


Edward ” The author is a genius without a living equal, 

Bills so far as I am aware, in his peculiar field. It 

Is a masterpiece. ... I have read many portions sev- 
eral times, captivated by the unapproachable tints of the 
painting. None but a genius of the highest order could 
do such work.” 

N. Y. Commercial “ The short prose tale should be a syn- 
Advertiser thesis ; it was the art of Edgar Poe, 

it is the art of Mr. Chambers. . . . His is beyond ques- 
tion a glorious heritage. ... I fancy the book will 
create a sensation ; ... in any case it is the most 
notable contribution to literature which has come from an 
American publisher for many years ; and fine as the ac- 
complishment is, ‘ The King in Yellow ’ is large in promise. 
One has a right to expect a great deal from an author of 
this calibre.” 


Times- The most eccentric little volume of its (little) 
Herald day. ‘The King in Yellow’ is subtly fascinat- 
ing, and compels attention for its style and its wealth of 
strange, imaginative force.” 

New York “Mr. Robert W. Chambers does not have a 
Times system to work up to ; he has no fad, save a 

tendency to «rrite about the marvelous and the impossible; 
painting pictures of romance that have a wild inspiration 
about them. Descriptive powers of no mean quality are 
I>erceptible in this volume of stories.” 

The N. Y. “Mr. Chambers has a great command of 
World words; he is a good painter. His situations 

are most delicately touched, and some of his descriptions 
are exquisite. He writes like an artist. He uses colors 
rather than ideas. . . . The best drama in the volume 
means madness. The tenderest fancy is a sad mirage, 
. . . ‘The King in Yellow* is a very interesting contri- 
bution to the present fund of materio-mysticism. . . • 
To read Mr. Chambers’ little book is to escape from the ac- 
tual on poetical wings.” 

Minneapolis “ They have a mysterious, eerie air about 
Tribune them that is apt to stimulate the rea^.^’s 

curiosity.” 

Philadelphia “ Charming, delicate, skillful, vivid.** 
Times 


Philadelphia “ Expected to make a sensation, charming, 
Item full of color and delicately tinted.” 

Cleveland “ It is wondrous strong, dramatic, full of color, 
Gazette weird, uncanny, picturesque, and yet a gem 

of exquisite coloring, dreamy, symbolic, exciting.’* 

Detroit “ • The King in Yellow * comjpels attention,” 
Journal 


Denver “Treated in a most fascinating wayl W<8M« 
Timet mysterious, powerfull”i 


Buckram, Gilt Tojp. Retail, 75 Gentf* 


PATH ER STAFFORD 

BY ANTHONY HOPE. 

The Most Remarkable of Mr. Hope’s Stories. 


]lflnneapolIs “This story Is in the genuine Hope style 
Tribune and for that reason will be widely read.** 

Public Ledger, “ * Father Stafford ’* is extremely clever, 

Philadelphia a bold privateer venturing upon the 
high seas.” 

San Francisco “ It is a good story, the strong parts of 

Chronicle which are the conflict between love and 

conscience on the part of a young Anglican priest. The 
charm of the book, however, lies in the brisknessof the dia- 
logue, which is as finely finished as any of Hope’s novels.** 

Nashville “ ‘ Father Stafford ’ is a charming story. The 

Banner whole book sustains the reputation that An- 

thony Hope has made, and adds another proof that as a 
portrayer of characters of sharp distinctness and individ- 
uality, he has no superior.” 

Evening “A writer of great merit. , , , Mr. Hope’s 
Wisconsin work has a quality of straightforwardness 
that recommends it to readers who have grown tired ot 
the loaded novel.” 

J*hillipsburg “ This is considered by his critics to be one 

Journal of the strongest, most beautiful and in- 

teresting novels Mr. Hope has ever written. There is not 
a dull line in the entire volume.” 

Amusement “The dialogue is bright and worldly, and 
Gazette the other characters do not suffer because 

so prominent is the hero ; they are well drawn, and quite 
out of the ordinary.” 

Vanity, “A very interesting narrative, and Mr. Hope 
New York tells the story after that fashion which he 
would seem to have made peculiarly his own.” 

Kansas City “ There is something more than the romance 
Journal of the action to hold the reader’s mind. It 

is one of the author’s best productions.” 

Every Saturday, “ Anthony Hope is a master of dialogue, 
Elgin, 111. and to his art in this particular is due 

the enticing interest which leads the reader on from page 
to page.” 

Hebrew “The strife between the obligation of a vow of 
Standard celibacy and the promptings of true love are 
vividly portrayed in this little book. ... It contains an 
admirable description of English country life, and is weU 
written.” 

Boston Dally “ It has enough of the charm of the aich 
Blobe thor’s thought and style to identify it mth 

characteristic, and make it very pleasing,’* ^ 

Pudcram, Gilt Top. Retail, 75 Cemtb 


IN THE QUARTER. 

BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. 

Author of “The King in Yellow.” 

PRESS NOTICES: 

New York “It Is a story of life in Paris. , , that nas 
World good descriptions of dramatic scenes.” 

Book Buyer, “ It is a story of a man who tried to recon- 
New York cile irreconcilable facts. . . Mr. Cham- 

bers tells it with a happy choice of words, thus putting ‘ to 
proof the art alien to the artists. , . It is not a book for 
the unsophisticated, yet its morality is high and unmis- 
takable. . 

Brooklyn Citizen “ Full of romantic incidents. , .** 

Boston Courier “Interesting novel of French life. • .** 

Boston “ A story of student life written with dash • .** 
Traveller and surety of handling. , .” 

Boston “Well written, bright, vivid; the ending is 
Times highly dramatic.” 

New York “ Charming story of Bohemian life, with Its 

jguuday World buoyancy, its romance, and its wild joy of 
youth . . . vividly depicted in this graceful tale by one 
who, like Daudet, knows his Paris. Some pages are ex- 
quisitely beautiful.”' 

Philadelphia “Idyllic — charming. Mr. Chambers* story 

Bulletin is delicately told.” 

N. Y. Evening “It is a good story in its way. It is good 

Telegram in several ways. There are glimpses of 

the model and of the grisette— all dainty enough. The 
most of it might have come from so severe a moralist as 
George Eliot or even Bayard Taylor. . .” 

N.'Y. Commercial “A very vivid and touchingly told story. 

Advertiser Tne tale is interesting because it re- 

flects with fidelity the life led by certain sets of art 
students. A genuine romance, charmingly told.’* 

Congregationalist, “Vivid, realistic. There is much of 
Boston ‘ nobility in it. A decided and ex cel- 

lent moral influence. It is charmingly written from cover 
to cover. . .” 

Vogue, “ The author is to be congratulated on the llter- 
New York ary skill shown in what is reported to be his 
first attempt at novel writing, his characterization being 
especially clever. The author treats his theme with a re- 
finement that softens, but does not gloss over, the excesses 
of temptations that beset youths ; and he shows himself 
keenly observant of everyday life of the Latin Quarter. . •*’ 

Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50 Cents. 


P*. TENNYSON NEELY, 
Chicago. New York . 


J Panorama of American Historf* 

m REVERsieTE^HISTORICM CHART 

Political and United States Map combined. 

Chronological Discoveries, Explorations, Inventrons 
and Important Events. A Brief History of the World’s 
Columbian Exposition. Area and Population of States 
and Territories, with Census of 1890. Area and Popula- 
lation of Foreign Countries Compared with the United 
/States. 

Better than an Encyclopedia. Printed in 11 Beautiful 
Colors. The Only Census Map published. A Double Wall 
Map, 5 feet 6 inches by 3 feet 10 inches, mounted on Roll- 
ers top and bottom, ready to hang. 

Prepaid b^^ express or mail. Price, $1.00. 


NEELY’S HISTORY 

OF THE 

Parliament of Religions and Reiigious Congress at 
the Columbian Exposition. 

Authentic, Reliable, Complete, Impartial, Non-secta 
rian. A Fascinating Story. A Book of Universal Inter 
est. A Companion ot the Sckolar. Of the Greatest Value 
for Reference. 

Illustrated with full-page half-tone engravings. Com- 
plete in one volume of over 1,000 pages. Compiled from 
original manuscripts and stenographic reports. A thor- 
ough history of the grandest achievement and the most 
important event in modern religious history. 

Two Volumes in One, Octavo Cloth, $2.50. Full Sheep, $4.60, 


BILL NYE’S WRITINGS. 

iiemarkg by Bill Nye. The Funniest of Books. 

“ It will cure the blues quicker than the doctor 
and at half the price.”— New York Herald. 
Over 500 pages, 150 Illustrations. Octavo Cloth, $1.50. 
Paper, 50 cents. 

Sparks from the Pen of Bill Nye. Paper, 25 cts. 

Humor and Wit. Poems and Yarns. James White- 
comb Riley.— Bill Nye. Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 25 ct». 


Agents wanted. Complete Catalogue free on request, 

sale by all Booksellers, or sent on receipt of Price by 

the Publisher. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, 

NKW YORK, CHICAGO, 

114 Fifth Avenue* 254 Franklin StreoCk 


/ 


V 



4 • 
« ( 

\ 




DISCHARGE YOUR DOCTOR! O 


HOW TO LIVE. 

WHAT TO EAT. 

THE WAY TO COOK IT. 

DR. C/IRLIN’5 

MHIVEKSOL 

RECEIPT ^ 


POOR 


SEP/miLT 

PHTSKIdN 


MEMORIAL EDITION. 

This wonderful compendium of practical information, pertaining to every 
branch of Social and Domestic Economy, embraces all that every mother and 
housekeeper need know. It gives general rules in regard to the proper selection 
of food, the best manner of preparing same, what should and should NOT be used 
under certain conditions, and all based on the excellent medical instructions also 
given. NO FAMILY SHOULD BE WITHOUT IT. 

REDUCE YOUR DOCTOR BILLS. 

This book is so arranged, written and illustrated, that it saves many times its 
cost to the purchaser eveiy year. The best treatment in the world within the reach 
of all. The purchaser of Dr. Carlin’s Physician invests his money at 1000 per cent. 
Interest. Index of Symptoms. Index of Diseases. List of Medicines, their 
properties, how to prepare them and how to administer them. 


«* 


AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION IS WORTH A POUND OF CURE.'* 


It will Save Many Times its Cost In One Year. 

If your child is sick, consult it. If you are worn out, it suggests a remedy. If you 
want to start a garden, it tells you how. If your husband is out of sorts, it will tell 
you what he needs. If you need help in your cooking, nothing is better. If any- 
thing goes wrong in your household affairs, 

OLD DR. CARLIN KNOWS ALL ABOUT IT, 

and explains so you can make no mistake. 

The Work is voluminous in all its details, and written in such a way as to be 
readily understood by all. Any case of ordinary sickness is fully treated, and such 
remedies suggested as are easily obtainable and at small cost. 


DR. CARLIN needs no indorsement. Born in Bedford, England, he 
acquired a reputation second to no physician in that country, which is a grand rec- 
ord. His grandfather, father and several brothers were eminent doctors, indicat- 
ing a peculiar fitness of the family in this direction. His practical knowledge was 
of wide scope, much of which he has embodied in this great and indispensable book. 

BOUND IN HANDSOME CLOTH. GILT SIDE AND BACK. 

ALSO ENAMEL HERCULES MANILLA COVER. 

Reg. Subscription Price, $5.00. Orders Solicited. Special Terms to Agents. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, 

CHICAGO. PUBUSHEB. NEW YORK. 



NEELY’S 

INTERNATIONAL 

LIBRARY 

IN UNIFORM CLOTN BINDING, 

S1.25 BACH, 

LOURDES— Zola. 

AT MARKET VALUE— Grant Allen. 

Author Of “The Duchess of Powysland,^’ “This Mortal 
Coil,” “Blood Royal,” “The Scallywag,” Etc. 

RACHEL DENE — Robert Buchanan. 

Author of “The Shadow of the Sword,” “God and the 
Man,” Etc. 

A DAUGHTER OF THE KINO— Alien. 

THE ONE TOO MANY— E. Lynn Linton. 

/ Author Of “Patricia Kimhall,” “ The Atonement of Learn 
j Dundas,” “Through the Long Night,” Etc. 

I A MONK OF CRUTA — E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
i IN THE DAY OF BATTLE— J. A. Steuart. 

j Author of “ Kilgroom,” “ Letters to Living Authors,” Etc. 

I THE GATES OF DAWN— Fergus Hume. 

I Author of “Mystery of a Hansom Cah,” “MissMephis- 
j topheles,” Etc. 

IN STRANGE COMPANY— Guy Boothby. 

Author of “On the Wallaby.” 

THAT EURASIAN— Aleph Bey. 


For Sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent postpaid 
on receipt of price by the Publisher, 

F. Tennyson Neely, 

CHICAGO. 



FORT 


FRAYNE 

j 1 , , , ,1 


A NEW NOVEL OF 

Army Life in the llorthmest. 

i||f 

By CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A., 

lilf 1 M 

Author of “The Colonel’s Daughter,” “A 
Wartime Wooing.” 


J2MO. CLOTH, $J.25. 


NEELY’S INTERNftTIONftL LIBRARY. 


Captain King is probably the most popular American novelist of to-day. He always 
has a good story to tell and tells it with spirit There is no lack of climaxes, of strong 
situations, of dramatic incidents. The reader feels the author’s delight in his own stirring 
story, and Is carried on by the thrilling movement of the plot, to the end, 

Captain King’s novels have been sold by the hundreds of thousands. He is known 
everywhere, and it is because he does not disappoint his readers. He gives them enter- 
taining, exciting stories that are always full of surprises and end happily. 

JfewYorlt “The Captain has done many good things. He has a facile pen— too 
neralcl facile, I sometimes think— and tells a story in a way to excite the 

admiration of boys and stir the blood of old men. He knows how to handle incidents, 
and does it witli skill. I like to read him, and if I had twenty or thirty boys I should 
buy this book for their delectation.” 

Barlinerton “Captain Charles King always has a good story to tell and tells it with 
Free Fress spirit. The reader feels the author’s delight in his own stirring plot. 
His novels have been sold by the hundreds of thousands, because he does not disap- 
point the public. ‘ Fort Frayne ’ is fully as exciting as anything that he has yet p ^- 
lished.” 

Soston “A brisk, bright, military tale, with plenty of movement an 

Fvonlng: O-azette relates to exciting incidents at a northwest army post, a coupiv 
of decades ago. The personages who figure in the narrative stand out distinctly from 
its pages and the descriptions are exceedingly graphic.” 

Soston “Written from memory of tire lost manuscript of a drama play to which 
Olobe others contributed. Most of its action is in Wyoming. Garrison society, 
soldiers and Sioux Indians, make the scene brilliantly descriptive of army life. The 
plot is somewhat sensational but it is entertaining every moment. 

Oregronian “A story of modern Indian warfare and modern love affairs in a Wyo- 
ming fort, and is full of interest, and lively interest.” 

milwankee “A typical King story, entirely in his customary vein and fully as In- 
Joiiriial teresting as any he has written: well constructed and full of admir- 

able incidents. Captain King makes this story the medium of a defense of the army 
method of dealing with Indians, or rather a criticism on the Government system of 
treating the wards of a nation and, indeed, he makes out a strong case for the army.’* 

Weekly “Done with his acknowledged skill. The work is probably one of the 

Wisconsin best or the many army stories that he has given the reading worlds 
Breezy and exciting throughout. 

Denver “Pleasant reading, pure and wholesome. While the plot of this tale la 

Republican not materially different from the others of this writer. It holds the 
interest of the reader, and the garrison tragedies, love scenes and comedies are painted 
with the brush of one who sketches from life, and few writers excel Captain King in 
the realistic picture of battle scenes.” 


For Sale by all Booksellers, or sent on receipt of Price by the Publisher t 

F. TENNYSON NEELY* Chicago, New York, 




cr. 


. 4 ^ 




THE HOME MAGAZINE. 

Edited by William Mill Butler. Published by the Commercial Travelers' 
Home Association of America, at Binghamton, N. Y. The American New* 
Company and Union News Company, publishers’ agents, F. E. Morrison, 
advertising manager, 600 Temple Court, New York, and Boyce Building- 
Ch’cago. ^ ' 

The Home Magazine is a beautifully illustrated montlv 
ly, resembling in size and general appearance the other 
leading magazines of the day. At the same time it has an 
individuality of its own and qualities which endear it to a 
wide and constantly increasing circle of readers.^ Its aim 
is to convey interesting information in an interesting man- 
ner ; to cultivate a love of the good, and the true, and the 
beautiful ; to amuse as well as to enlighten ; to represent 
human life and human energy at its best, and inculcate a 
spirit of helpfulness and benevolence. Every issue is re- 
plete with choice literature for the family circle and timely 
articles on the great events and movements of the day. Its 
staff of contributors includes many of the brightest and 
ablest writers of the day. Original contributions have ap- 
peared in its pages from Edward Everett Hale, Julian 
Hawthorne, Julia Magruder, John Habberton, W. H. H. 
Murray, William T. Hornaday, Alice M. Bacon, W. J. 
Henderson, J. Macdonald Oxley, Claude Fayette Bragdon, 
and many others. Also from well-known public men, like 
S. M. Cullom, John J. Ingalls, John M. Thurston, Julius C. 
Burrows, H. S. Pingree, Warner Miller, and others. 
The best things in current foreign publications, of special 
interest to American readers, also constitute one of its 
splendid features. . . 

The Association publishing this magazine was duly in- 
corporated by special act of the Legislature of the State of 
New York, and is engaged in erecting a National Home 
for Commercial Travelers at Binghamton. N. Y. To this 
benevolent work is devoted every dollar of profit realized 
from the publication. ^ ^ ~ • 

^ WHAT OTHERS SAY OP IT. ^ 

‘ Brimful of pood reading.”— ^Z6anyc7oMrna?. ^ 

*You are printing a splendid magazine.” — Elbert' Hubbard. ^ > 

An excellent and attractive periodical.” — Ella Wheeler Wilcox. ' 

** A really handsome magazine.’’— U. 8 . Senator Justin 8 . Morrill, 

** Every issue is replete w'ith choice literature.”— .Bosion Transcrij^. _ ^ 
** Growing rapidly in circulation and influence.” — Rochester Post-Expreat. 

It is attaining wide popularity by reason of its general excellence.”— 
Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. . 

I heartily congratulate ypu on the success you are mailng of \i”—Prof, 
J. H. Gilmore, University of Rochester. 

” I like the magazine very much, and predict for it a grand success." — Dr, 
Zewia Swift, the well-known astronomer. ^ 

” Contains a wealth of entertaining, instructive and well Illustrated matter 

between its attractive covers.”— PAiWe/pAiaiZecorJ. ' 

“ Has already secured recognition all over the country on account or its 
literary merit and general excellence.” — New York Times. 

The magazine depends upon general literary excellence and good illustra- 
tions, rather than class interest, for its support.”— Fori Press. 

«‘The last number of your magazine was excellent. If you can keep that 
pace it is bound to go up into the ‘ leaders.’”— Gen. Lew Wallace, author of 

** Your magazine contains so much interesting matter and Is so b^uti- 
fully illustrated that it is certainly “.great credit to the editor and Com- 
mercial Travelers’ Home Association.’' — Prof, Wtllia L. Moore, Chief U,a, 
Weather Bureau. 

Buhscrlption Prlw, $2.00 per Anauui ; Single Copies, 25 Ce&ti« j ' 


LEre '09 















